


Banshee Blood

by charlotteinlace



Series: Blood Ties [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Banshee Powers, Elemental Magic, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Multi, Romance, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 19:50:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 35
Words: 114,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlotteinlace/pseuds/charlotteinlace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If the first sign of insanity is hearing voices...then I'm fucked. I used to be the hot girl, the girl everyone wanted, but not anymore. Now I'm the banshee, death's calling card. I also think I might be in love with my best friend...but that's the least of my problems.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The music is so loud that I can feel it vibrating under my skin and running through my veins. I don’t know what this club is called or even how I got here, but I don’t care. For the first time in weeks it feels like I can breathe.

The constant buzzing in my ears has something to do with me being a banshee, but I have no idea what it means. It used to happen when I got close to a dead or dying person, but now it never stops. Loud music is the only thing that drowns it out.

I make my way through the crowd until I reach the bar. The bartender, a heavily tattooed young man with dreadlocks, eyes me like a piece of candy he wants to suck on. If I am lucky I can talk him into a few free drinks. I flash him a smile as I pull up a chair.

“What can I get for you, sugar?” The bartender asks as he tosses a bottle up into the air and catches it, receiving loud cheers from the crowd. I roll my eyes. It takes a lot more than some fancy bottle tossing to impress me…I go to school with werewolves.

I lean across the bar, grab the front of his shirt, and pull him in close. “Surprise me…” I whisper into his ear and then push him away from me. The sudden neediness in his eyes tells me that I was right about the free drinks. A few minutes later the he places a girly drink in my hand and winks at me.

“I get off at two,” the bartender says as I toss back the drink; it tastes like strawberries and vodka. The alcohol burns my throat and leaves me buzzing. I place my empty glass back onto the counter and twist around to face him. He is hot, in a grungy sort of way.

“Let me think on it.” I flash him another smile and then make my way into the crowd before he asks me to pay. The people around me jump and sway to the beat. The red lights sparkling above the dance floor making the club look like it’s on fire.

I put my arms up and let the beat sink into my skin. The past few months have been hell. I haven’t been able to sleep, focusing in class has been almost impossible, and my friends have been too caught up in their own problems to notice. I haven’t felt this good in months. My head is fuzzy from the alcohol and, for the first time in a long time, I can’t hear the ringing in my ears.

I spot two good-looking men watching me from across the room across. I flash them a smile and motion them both over. They make their way over to me. Before either of them can say a word I place myself between them, close my eyes, and start to grind up on them both. They take the hint easily enough and I sigh when they start to dance with me.

We dance until my body is covered in a thin seen of sweat. The dance floor is even more packed then it was when I got here. I am still trapped between two very sexy men, but everyone else is so close that it feels like I am dancing with the crowd.

I wrap my arm around the neck of the man at my back and grab hold of my other dance partner’s shirt. Their bodies bend and sway to meet my movements. I close my eyes and let myself sink into the moment because I know that is only a matter of time before they ruin it.

As if they just read my mind they both start to get handsy; the man in front of my slides his hands down my body to cup my butt and the man to my back starts to kiss my neck. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a slut. Casual sex leads to STDs and awkwardness.

“I think I have had more than enough fun for tonight,” I say as I place my hands on their chests and try to push them away from me, but they won’t budge. Fear grabs my throat and starts to choke me as I struggle against them.

The man in behind me grabs me around the middle and the man in front of me takes hold of both of my wrists. “You didn’t think that you were just gonna leave us hanging did you?” One of them whispers into my ear.

“Let go of me!” I demand as they start to pull me towards the back door. This was such a bad idea. I should have invited Allison, but I didn’t want to burden her with my problems. She has enough to worry about without adding me to the mix.

The two men pull me outside into the dirty alley. Before I know what is happening they have me pressed up against a brick wall. The cool air stings my sweltering hot skin and makes my body itch.

As the sound of the music dies out my ears start to ring again, but the noise is ten times worse than it was a few hours ago. My head starts to pound and my vision blurs as the ringing intensifies. It’s never been this intense.

“Come on, baby, don’t be such a tease,” The taller man whispers as he brushes his lips across my cheek and grabs my ass.

“Get the fuck away from me!” I scream as I struggle against them. The shorter man grabs both of my wrists and twists me around, holding my back against his front. His buddy runs his hand up my thigh, reaching under my dress. I try to knee him in the balls but he shoves me back into place.

As he grabs the hem of my panties the ringing in my ears mounts. I am so scared that I can’t breathe. Tears well up in my eyes as I try to move out of his reach, but his friend has a tight hold on me. I manage to take a breath and before I know what is happening I am screaming. The sound echoes around the alley and out into the street.

The men release me and fall to their knees at my feet, with their hands clamped over their ears. I try to stop myself, to shut my mouth, but I can’t. I watch as my assailants’ eyes roll back into their heads and they fall backwards. The second that they hit the ground I stop screaming.

My whole body is shaking and my face is wet with tears. I stumble away from the men, tripping over my stiletto heels. I turn to run, but the sight of the blood on their hands stops me in my tracks. I inch my way back over to them, curiosity getting the best of me. My brows knit together when I see the blood seeping out of their ears.

I fall to my knees next to the closest man and reach out hesitantly, placing my fingertips to his neck. “Please be alive…please be alive…come on…” I hiss through clamped teeth as I search for a nonexistent pulse. The world comes crashing down around me as it dawns on me that they are both dead. My scream killed them.

I grab my purse from where it fell on the ground and pull out my phone. My ears start to ring again as I dial Stiles’ number. I clutch the phone in my shaking hand and place it against my ears, praying that he answers the phone.

“Lydia, are you okay?” he asks frantically. “Derek heard you scream. We were just about to come looking for you.” The sound of his voice brings fresh tears to my eyes. Stiles is the only person I know who is completely selfless. I don’t deserve to have a friend like him.

“I…I…please come get me,” I whimper as I stumble around the side of the club. A neon sign hanging above the doors reads ‘Oblivion.’ “I am in front of a club called Oblivion. I don’t know where it is, but…I think that I…oh God…” I stifle a sob behind my hand as I slide down the side of the club.

“We are coming to get you, Lydia. Just stay where you are,” he says tenderly. The phone slips out of my shaking hand and falls onto the cement. I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them.

I just killed two people. Yes, they were trying to rape me, but that doesn’t excuse anything. Murder is murder, supernatural or not. My scream has led me to dead people before, but I’ve never killed someone with it. The faces of the men I killed flash before my eyes, blood dripping from their ears.

“Lydia.” I hear Stiles call my name and I lift my gaze. He slams the door on Derek’s black Camaro and runs over to me. He falls to his knees next to me and takes my face in his hands. My heart rate slows as I look up into his green eyes. “Lydia, what happened?” he asks as he gently brushes away the tears that are streaming down my face. I open my mouth to explain, but nothing comes out.

“It smells like blood. Is she hurt?” Derek asks darkly.

“No, I don’t see any blood,” Stiles says as he scans my body

Derek inhales deeply through his nose and his eyes turn red. I watch in horror as he stalks around the corner, into the alley. “Fuck.” I hear him exclaim and I know that he must be looking down at the bodies of the two men I killed.

“I…I…killed them. I killed them…” I sob as Stiles lifts me into his arms. He cradles my shaking body against his chest and walks into the alley.

“Stiles, take her to the loft. I’ll get rid of these bodies,” Derek says as he fishes his keys out of his pocket and hands them to Stiles. I bury my face into Stiles’ shirt, unable to look at them. I expect Stiles to take me back to the car right away, but he stands stock-still, staring down at the bodies. His natural curiosity is getting the best of him.  “Now, Stiles!” Derek’s bark-like command brings Stiles back to reality. 

Stiles carries me to Derek’s Camaro, sits me down in the passenger seat, and then gets into the car himself. The car roars to life and takes off down the street, headlights cutting through the darkness.

I pull my legs up to my chest and place my chin between my knees. Silent tears stream down my face. I want to stop crying, I need to stop crying, but I can’t. I just killed two people and now Derek is getting rid of the bodies for me.

“I guess you can cross murder off of your bucket list now, right, Liddy?” Stiles says with a sly smile. I can’t decide if I should laugh or hit him, then again that is how I always feel around Stiles.

“That’s not funny, Stiles,” I say bluntly.

“No, but you stopped crying,” he says smugly. I turn to face him, catching his gaze. He reaches over and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I am terrified that if I tell him he will finally see me for what I really am. A voice in the back of my mind reminds me that it is in Stiles’ nature to see the best in people, and nothing I say will change that.

“I went to the club because loud music is the only thing that drowns it out.” My voice is barely audible over the roar of the engine. “I haven’t been able to-” I start to tell him that I haven’t been sleeping, but he interrupts me.

“Drowns what out, Lydia?” he asks gingerly as he turns the car onto the road that leads to Derek’s loft. I open my mouth to tell him about the ringing, but my throat dries up. I have been keeping it a secret for so long.

“I’ve…been hearing this…ringing in my ears for months.” The truth spills out of my mouth before I have a chance to choke it down.

“Oh my God, Lydia! Why didn’t you tell anyone?” The fury in his voice surprises me. I jerk my hand away from his and clench my teeth. He takes a deep, calming breath and parks the car behind Derek’s building. “Lets go inside. Derek has a secret stash of Coco Puffs above his fridge,” he says gently. I glance over at him and he catches my gaze, his eyes are warm and apologetic.

“Okay,” I say softly as I open the door and step out of the car. My vision blurs and my head spins, but Stiles grabs me before I fall. He lifts me easily into his arms again and carries me onto the elevator that leads to Derek’s loft.

Once the elevator has reached the top floor the door slides open with a screech. Stiles carries me over and lays me down on Derek’s dark leather couch. Warmth envelops me as he drapes a thick, grey blanket over my body. It smells like leather and mint.

“This blanket smells like-” Stiles cuts me off.

“Like Derek…” he says so quickly that I almost don’t catch. It takes him a moment to realize what he just said and when he does he swallows awkwardly. “I am gonna go get you that cereal,” he says; then he disappears before I have the chance to give his Derek comment much thought.   

He returns a few minutes later holding a massive bowl of Coco Puffs. I take the bowl from him and watch as he sits down on the coffee table in front of me. He holds my gaze tenderly, trying to coax the truth out of me without saying a word, but I keep my mouth shut.

“Just tell me what happened, Liddy,” he says softly.

I open my mouth, ready to tell him the whole story, but the sound of the elevator moving shuts me up. I turn my head just in time to see Scott, Isaac, and Allison walk into the loft.


	2. Chapter 2

Allison rushes over and takes me into her arms. “Scott and Isaac heard you scream. Is everything okay?” she asks earnestly. I glance sideways at Stiles, warning him to keep his mouth shut.

“I am fine, Allison. It was nothing…” I say with a reassuring nod, but she doesn’t look the least bit convinced.

“Don’t lie to my, Lydia. Something has been bothering you for months. You’ve been popping pain pills like candy and missing class.” Allison’s warm, chocolate colored eyes tear into me. I shouldn’t have underestimated her; she was trained to pay attention to details. All this time she’s known something was wrong with me, but she didn’t say a word.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I say instinctively. I know that I should just tell her the truth, Allison is my best friend, but my pride is getting the best of me. I’ve felt completely isolated for months, stuck inside my own ringing head. She knew something was wrong and didn’t ask about it.

“Lydia, please don’t push me away,” Allison begs. I place the bowl of mostly untouched cereal onto the coffee table next to Stiles and stand up. Allison releases my hands half-heartedly. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something else but I don’t give her a chance.

“I’m going to bed,” I say flatly. Then I turn and make my way upstairs before they have time to respond. The guest bedroom lightly furnished and decorated with in dark greens and blue. Derek’s house is always warm and quiet, but nowhere is quiet for me. All I can ever hear is the incessant ringing in my ears.

I walk into the adjoining bathroom and look into the mirror above the sink. My eyes are rimmed with smudged mascara and there are tear track cutting through my pale face. No wonder Allison assumed the worst of me; I look horrible. I guess it is kind of fitting; I am a walking death omen.

I turn on the shower, strip off my clothes, and step into the warm spray. My head spins and my vision starts to blur as I slide down the tiled wall. In an instinctual effort to block out the noise I place my hands over my ears. The action reminds me of the two men in the alley; they were both trying to block me out when they died.

A fresh wave of tears starts to stream down my face. I grit my teeth and stare at the far wall, determined to stop crying, but it doesn’t work. Those men were sick bastards, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that I killed them. They are both dead because I don’t know what I am.

I stifle a sob behind my hand. There are werewolves downstairs with very sensitive hearing and I don’t want them to know that I am crying. I may be falling apart at the seams, but I am not weak.

Once I have myself under control I shut off the shower, grab a towel, and wrap it around myself. Steam seeps in the bedroom when I open the bedroom door. I listen for the voices of my friends downstairs, but all I can hear is buzzing; they must have gone home.

As it occurs to me that I don’t have anything to wear my eyes settle on a black t-shirt that is folded up on the bed. I walk across the room and pick it up. It is too large to belong to Stiles so that means that it must be Derek’s. I drop my towel and slip the shirt over my head; it falls down almost to my knees. The scent of leather and mint fills my lungs, reminding my simultaneously of both Stiles and Derek.

I climb up into the big bed and bury myself under the covers. My head starts to hurt, as the ringing in my ears becomes the only thing that I can focus on. This happens every night and there isn’t anything I can do to fix it. I close my eyes and force myself body to shut down.

 

_Dry leaves crunch underweight my bare feet. The wind twists my hair around and blows it up away from my face. Moonlight shines down on the tress, throwing shadows left and right. It is so cold that I can see the breath vacate my lungs._

_I make my way deeper into the forest, following the faint sound of whispering. The wind blows leaves in a flurry around me. The power coursing through my veins seeps into my heart and infects me. My mouth tastes like blood, coppery and sharp. I know that I should be cold, but my skin is on fire. I strip off the shirt I am wearing and drop it onto the ground._

_The whispers get louder as I walk towards them. The words curl around in my head, sharpening my eyesight and sending chills running up my spine._

_“Can you hear us?”_

_“Listen to us.”_

_“Listen to us!”_

_“We are coming.”_

_A cloud moves in front of the moon, shrouding me in darkness. I can feel the Whisperers moving around me, stalking me. I search for them in the shadows, but they are impossible to locate._

_Fear seizes up in my chest, stealing the air from my lungs. They are getting closer. I listen, standing stock-still, as they circle around me. My chest is heaving, but I can’t breathe. I want to run away from them, to get the hell out of this place, but I can’t move._

_“Can you feel us getting closer?”_

_“We are coming.”_

_“Listen to us!”_

_They are screaming at me now, demanding that I listen to them. I instinctively put my hands over my ears to block out their voices, but they bleed through my fingers. My body starts to shake as they close in on me._

_I regain control of my body as adrenaline starts to pump through me. I take off, running deeper into the forest to escape them. They chase after me. I can feel them, hear them, behind me. I don’t know why they are chasing me, but I do know that if they catch me they will kill me._

_“We are coming for them.”_

_“Listen to us!_

_“Listen to us!_

_“Listen!”_

_Branches swipe at my naked body as I run, slashing away at my skin. The tears in my eyes cloud my vision, making it impossible for me to see where I am going. I run blindly forward, terrified to the point of insanity._

_The energy starts to ebb out of my body. My lungs are burning and the cuts on my feet are agony. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up._

_I trip over a root and, before I know what is happening, I am laying on the ground. My body is covered in dirt and screaming at me. I try to force myself to get up, but my exhausted body refuses to listen to me. My muscles are quivering and my chest heaves._

_The Whisperers circle around me. I expect them to close in on me and tear me limb from limb, but they just continue to circle. Their whispers echo around in my scull, vibrating inside of me._

_“They will die.”_

_“They will die.”_

_“They will die.”_

_“We will kill them all!”_

I jolt upright, a scream caught in my throat. I instinctually try to scramble away from the creatures from my nightmare and am surprised when my fingers grasp wet leaves instead of warm sheets. I open my eyes and am momentarily blinded by the sunlight that is filtering through the dark pine trees.

I place my hands under my body and force myself to stand up. My head spins and I have to place my hand on a tree to keep myself from falling down. My feet hurt…everything hurts. I look down at myself and realize that I am completely naked. My body is covered in thin cuts and scraps that are all coated in blood and grime.

As I gain my bearing a question forms in my mind. How in the hell did I get out here? I was having a nightmare. I remember being chased through the woods by the Whisperers. I remember them screaming at me, telling me that they were going to kill someone. Maybe I was sleepwalking and my dream scared me so much that I started to run. I remind myself that that is impossible.

With more questions than answers I locate sun and start back towards town. My feet are bleeding so I have to choose each step carefully; it is a slow and tedious trip back to Beacon Hills.

I am so focused on my current predicament and my nightmare that I almost forget about the ringing in my ears. The events of last night come rushing back to me as the ringing intensifies. I killed two men. A small voice in my head reminds me that they were trying to rape me.

When I finally reach the road that leads to Beacon Hills I am out of breath and exhausted. It takes me a good ten minutes to make it to the gas station on the outskirts of town. I grab a dirty, plastic tarp out of the back of a truck, wrap it around me, and walk into the gas station.

“Hey there, how can I-” The woman at the cash register stops talking the second that her eyes land on me. Her eyes widen and her jaw unhinges. I literally scared the words right out of her mouth. 

“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask awkwardly. I give her a few minutes to respond, but she doesn’t. I quickly think up a lie to justify my appearance before she calls the cops. “Oh…oh my god…I am not hurt or anything.” I scoff her off with a laugh. “I am in the school play and this is my costume. My phone just died on the way to school and I need to get a ride.” I flash her a reassuring smile and hope that it will make up for the most unbelievable lie I have ever told.

It takes her a few minutes to process what I just said. “Oh…my mistake, honey. Of course you can borrow my phone,” she says gently then she pulls a phone off of the wall and hands it to me. I pull on the coiled cord, giving myself a little walking room, and then I dial Stiles’ number.

“Lydia! Are you okay?” Stiles asks earnestly. He is breathing heavily like he has been running. I am so glad to hear his voice that I exhale in relief.

“Yeah…I think so,” I say softly, cradling the phone to my ear.

“Where are you, Liddy? We’ve been looking for you for hours,” he says then he pulls away from the phone to talk to whoever is with him. “No, she says that she is okay.” His voice is muffled.

“I am in the gas station on the west side of town.” I say as I resituate the tarp around my body, hoping that it just looks more like an ugly dress and less like…a tarp. If the lady at the cash register gets suspicious and calls the police, they will call my mother.

“Allison and I will be there in ten minutes,” Stiles says assuredly. The sound of his voice settles my unsteady heartbeat. “What happened last night, Lydia? Derek and I woke up and you were gone. He is out with Scott and Isaac trying to track your scent.” The anxiety in his voice strips me down and brings tears to my eyes. He cares so much about me.

“I will tell you when you get here. I am on the gas station’s land line,” I whisper, hoping that he understand that I can’t tell him what happened in front of normal people.

“Alright. I am going to call Derek and tell him you are okay before he runs himself to death,” Stiles says and, for the first time, I hear the exhaustion in his voice. I search the walls for a clock and I realize that I went to sleep at Derek’s house twelve hours ago. How long have they been looking for me? How long have I been running around in the woods?

“Okay. I’ll see you in a minute,” I say then I hang up the phone before he can insist that I call Allison and stay on the phone with her until they get here. I hand the phone back to the lady with a whispered thank you and then walk back outside.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles and Allison pull up Derek’s Camaro. They throw open the doors, without turning off the vehicle, and rush over to me. Allison pulls me into her arms; her cheek is wet with tears. I’ve never ever seen her cry before.

“We were so worried about you!” she whispers then she pulls away from me and brushes the tears from her eyes. I don’t know how to respond to seeing her like this; she is always so strong, so fierce. The redness in her eyes tells me that she has been crying for a while.

“I’m okay…just wearing a tarp…” I say with a weak laugh. It takes Stiles a moment to catch my drift. When he finally does he shrugs off his jacket and hands it to me. Somehow I manage to pull on his jacket, zip it, and release the tarp without flashing them. I wrap my arms around myself and bury my face in the collar; the jacket is warm and it smells like Stiles.

“Oh my God, Liddy, you’re bleeding!” Stiles says sharply with an agonized glance at my feet. I take a step away from them, leaving bloody footprints in my wake. Before I can tell him that I am fine he grabs me and lifts me into his arms. My first instinct is to tell him to put me down, but I am too exhausted to argue.

He carries me over and gingerly sits me down in the passenger seat. I watch as walks around the car, lets Allison get into the back, and slides into the drivers seat. As the engine roars to life all of the adrenaline ebbs out of my body. I can suddenly feel every single cut and bruise on my body.

“So tell us what-” Stiles to say, but he stops short when his eyes meet mine. I try to hide the pain, but he sees right through me. “That’s it…I am taking you to Deaton!” he says through clenched teeth. He starts to turn the car around.

“Stiles, please don’t…” I say as I reach out and grab his arm.

 

_I am standing on a road surrounded by thick forest. It is dark and rain drenches my almost-naked body. I squint, searching for something to give me a sense of direction. A set of headlights catches my eye._

_I take a few steps back and hide myself in the trees. I don’t trust these dreams of mine enough to flag down the car. Whatever’s inside could potentially want to eat my insides or string my teeth like a necklace. I listen for any whispering, but all I can hear is the chirp of crickets._

_The car approaches quickly and I think that it is going to pass me without incident, but just before it does something darts out in front of it. I see the silhouette of a deer in the headlights. The driver of the car swerves to avoid the deer and the car slams into a tree._

_I scream, watching in what feels slow motion, as the front of the car caves in. The airbags go off with a pop and then, just like that, everything is completely silent for a few moments. A child’s scream tears through the silence_

_“Mommy, wake up! Mommy…please…please wake up…” The child’s desperate pleas call to me. I run across the road and over to the smoking car. I reach out to grab hold of the door handle, but my fingers just slide right through the metal. It is like I am a ghost, unable to touch corporeal objects._

_“No…no…no…” I chant as I try again and again to grab hold of the handle, but my fingers just keep slipping through. Furious tears start to stream down my face._

_“Mommy! Mommy, wake up!” Dread shoots through me when I recognize the sound of the child’s voice…its Stiles. I peer through the window and his face slowly comes into focus. His amber eyes are wide with fear and his face is wet with tears and blood. He is clawing desperately at the door, but the car’s frame has been damaged, essentially trapping him inside._

_I sudden remember someone telling me once that Stiles’ mother died in a car crash. Am I witnessing the car crash that killed her? Am I somehow inside Stiles’ memory? This can’t be happening…_

_I take two steps forward and look through the window at Claudia. My heart stops when I see the huge piece of metal sticking into her abdomen. Blood coats her legs, seeping into the seat._

_“Mommy…I…I…” Stiles’ breathing starts to become strained. He gasps for air that refuses to enter his lungs. I instantly know what is happening because I have seen it happen to him before. He is having a panic attack. “Wake…up…” he coughs, gasping and sputtering._

_“Stiles…remember what you do when…you’re underwater…” I hear his mom whisper. Her voice is warm and honest; it makes me think of chocolate chip cookies and soft blankets. For a moment I don’t understand what she is trying to tell him, but then I see him puff out his cheeks like a child holding their breath under water. Holding his breath forces him to calm himself down. “Get out of the car, baby. You need to get out of…the car,” Claudia says frantically._

_A bright light pulls my gaze off of Stiles. I gasp when I see the fire that is blazing from the hood of the car up and around the tree. I’ve seen enough movies to know that when a car is on fire it only a matter of time before it blows up. I scream in fury as I try and fail to grab hold of the car door._

_“The door is stuck,” Stiles whimpers as he slams his fists into the window._

_Something catches my eye. The young boy comes walking out of the forest. His eyes burn yellow, werewolf yellow, when he looks into the headlights. Derek’s face slowly comes into focus, his face is set and his chest is heaving like he has been running. He runs up to the car and reaches for Claudia’s door, but she stops him._

_“No, not me! No…help my son…please…help my son…” she begs as she fades in and out of consciousness. Derek doesn’t question her; instead he grabs hold of the back door and pulls it off of its hinges._

_Stiles falls out of the car into Derek’s arms. The three-year age difference between them is barely noticeable because Derek looks just as scared as Stiles. Instinctually, Derek pulls a struggling Stiles across the road, away from the burning car._

_Tears blur my vision as I follow them across the road. I want to help them, to help Claudia, but I can’t. I’ve never felt this helpless before. Fear and guilt are eating me alive, gnawing at my insides. I know what is going to happen next and I there isn’t anything I can do to stop it._

_“My mom…she is still in there! I can’t leave her!” Stiles screams as he tries to jerk out of Derek’s strong grip._

_“I know, I’m going to-” The car explodes, sending shrapnel in all directions. Derek pushes Stiles into a tree and shields the other boy’s body with his own._

_A scream wells up in my chest and explodes out of me._

I wake up screaming. My body is shaking and my eyes burn with tears. When I realize that someone is holding me I instinctually start to struggle against his or her grip. Something is wrapped around me; my first thought is that I am strapped to a table.

“It’s okay, Liddy. I am right here. No one is going to hurt you.” The sound of Stiles’ voice in my ear calms me down. I open my eyes and realize that I am in a bed, under the covers, not strapped to a table. I am tucked up against Stiles; he has an arm wrapped protectively around me.

“How long have I been asleep?” I ask; my voice is weak and cracked.

“Lydia, you weren’t asleep…but you weren’t awake either,” he says tonelessly. I move slightly and realize, with a start, that my hands are cuffed together. I slowly sit up and bring my arms out from underneath the covers. There are bloody rings around the cuffs, like I was fighting against them.

“Did I hurt anyone?” I ask almost inaudibly. Stiles sits up, takes the keys to the cuffs out of his pocket, and releases me. My hands start to shake as I recall what I saw in my dream. I watched Derek drag Stiles away from his mother and then shield him from an explosion. I witnessed Claudia Stillinski’s death. I think I am going insane.

“No, but you…” He breaks off, lowering his gaze. “You tried to open the car door while I was driving. Allison had to hold you down while I drove us back to the loft. Then we had to handcuff you because you kept trying to smash your way into Derek’s car.” He takes both of my hands in his, holding them still. “Lydia, you were saying my name and Derek’s and…” His voice dies out before he says his mother’s name.

“Stiles, I think I’m going insane,” I whimper.

“Was it the same dream last night?” he asks gently as he reaches up and brushes my hair away from my face. I don’t have any desire to tell him about my what I saw, but he deserves to know that I saw his mother die.

“No…Stiles, I need you to tell me exactly how your mother died,” I say earnestly. He pulls his hands back and steps off of the bed. I grit my teeth when he starts to pace the room. He does this before he has a panic attack. I have seen it happen before; it is like he gets claustrophobic beforehand.

“I really don’t want to talk about that night,” he says as he runs his fingers anxiously through his hair. I want to take him into my arms and comfort him, but I think better of it.

“Do you remember exactly what happened or have you repressed it?” I ask, hating myself for sounding so clinical. Stiles’ breathing starts to become sporadic and he places his hands on the wall, taking deep breaths.

“Lydia, please stop,” he asks as he closes his eyes. I wrap my arms around my legs and bury my face in the covers. I don’t like seeing him like this. I want to be a sanctuary from the pain for him, not a trigger. He doesn’t deserve this.

I stand up on unsteady legs and walk over to him. He jerks away from me when I first touch him, but after a moment he leans into me. I wrap my arms around his middle and hold myself against his back. Slowly, his breathing returns to normal and his heartbeat steadies.

“I’m sorry. I never should have brought it up. It’s just-” I break off, unsure if I should tell him. Recounting how his mother died will most likely send him over the edge. “I think I saw that memory…your memory,” I say quietly, fully aware of the fact that I sound like a crazy person.

Stiles turns around in my arms and takes my face in his hands. I look up into his amber eyes and, for the first time, I want him to kiss me. Stiles and I have been friends for a few years now, but now, all of the sudden, I want more. My heart starts to beat overtime and I blush inadvertently. Unsure of how to react to these sudden feelings, I take a step away from him.  

“You saw the…car crash?”

“I kept trying to save you and your mother, but I couldn’t touch anything. It was horrible, Stiles.” Tears start to stream down my face. Stiles pulls me into his arms and holds me against him as I cry. No wonder he has nightmares and panic attacks, I would to if I had gone through that as a child.

“What about last night, Lydia?” he asks as he brushes his finger comfortingly through my hair. The second he mentions last night the buzzing in my ears intensifies to the point where it actually hurts.

“That was different. It wasn’t a memory. I am not even sure it was real or not. Maybe I was just sleepwalking or something.” I try to justify my actions, but I don’t really believe my own words. I don’t want to admit that the Whisperers are real because if I do then I have to admit that they are going to kill someone.

“I called Deaton when you started to…freak out. He should be here any minute,” he says sincerely. I want to be mad at him for calling the Emissary, but I know that he did it because he cares about me. I just don’t like dealing with the Druids…they have killed my friends with ice-baths a few too many times.

“Is everyone here?” I ask, trying to take my mind off of things.

“Yeah, they are all downstairs except Derek,” Stiles says Derek’s name the same way he says mine, like I am the most important thing in the world to him.

“Where is Derek?” I ask automatically.

“He’s asleep. He…he got shot last night while he was out looking for you,” Stiles says so quickly that I almost don’t catch the last bit. My heart stops when I realize what he just said.

“Oh my God, is he okay?” I ask as I pull away from Stiles.

“Yeah, he should be fine in a few hours…werewolf healing and everything,” Stiles says with a reassuring smile.

“I’m gonna go check on him,” I say then I start towards the door, but I stop midway and turn around. I close the distance between us and kiss him gently on the cheek. He ducks his head and, before I know what is happening, our lips are inches apart. “Thank you, Stiles,” I whisper before turning and walking out the door.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

I make my way slowly down the hall that leads to Derek’s bedroom. My heart is still beating overtime from my almost-kiss with Stiles. I try to make sense of my feelings for him, but it is impossible. Stiles is one of my best friends and I don’t want to mess that up, but I also can’t bear the thought of him holding another girl.

When I reach Derek’s door I take a deep breath. I haven’t ever been inside his room before. It is the only part of the house that is off limits to his pack. I’ve only ever seen Stiles go inside. I grab the doorknob with my shaking hand and twist it open.

A massive California King bed dominates the dark bedroom; its headboard is comprised of one large piece of wood with carvings of wolves running in the forest. The dark evergreen of the rumpled comforter reminds me of the trees I woke up staring at this morning.

I take two steps into the room and close the door behind me, shrouding the room in darkness. I tiptoe across the room and seat myself on the brown leather couch a few feet from the bed.

The comforter covers the lower half of Derek’s body, while the upper half is naked. The breath in my lungs catches when I see the white bandage wrapped around his corded abdomen. Instinctually, I reach out to touch it, needing to know that he is okay. He grabs my hand before I can touch him. I jerk away from him, startled by his sudden movement.

He opens his eyes and they flash red in the darkness. I jerk my hand away and grit my teeth. I wasn’t expecting him to wake up. He catches my gaze and holds it as his eyes fade back to normal. My muscles unlock and my heart rate steadies; Derek has a way of reassuring people without ever saying a word.

“Lydia,” he whispers as he runs his hand down his face.

“I…didn’t mean to…” I break off, unsure of what to say. “I just wanted to check on you,” I say gingerly. Derek isn’t an easy person to talk to; he is extremely guarded because of his past. It is hard for him to let anyone into his life because everyone he loved was taken from him.

“I am fine, Lydia. I didn’t mean to scare you…people don’t usually come into my room,” he says flatly as he sits up and sides to the edge of the bed. My face flushes in embarrassment. I shouldn’t have invaded his space, no matter how good my intentions were.

“I’m sorry…I will go…” I stand up and start towards the door, but he grabs my arm, stopping me. I twist around and am startled to find him standing before me. I expect him to let go of me, but he doesn’t. I am about to ask him what he is doing when, suddenly, the veins in his arm turn black and start to pulse. My body fills with warmth; the heat starts to purge my body of pain. For a moment I am thankful for the relief, but then I see the agony on his face.

“Stop!” I say fiercely as I tear away from him. His brows pull together in confusion and rejection glows in his mossy green eyes. Derek has always felt that he has to suffer for those he cares about.

“You are the one who is hurt, Derek. Use your strength to heal yourself for once. I’ll be okay,” I say gently. He takes a step away from me and clenches his jaw self-righteously.

“Lydia, you mean a lot to…Stiles. I can take your pain away,” he says as he runs his hand down the stubble on his jaw. The second that he says Stiles’ name my heart flutters, but when I look into his eyes it drops. Is he saying that he doesn’t care about me, that he was only be doing it for Stiles?

“Stiles isn’t the one who would be taking my pain upon himself, Derek. I don’t want you to do it because it is your obligation to Stiles,” I say and, before I realize what I am doing, I reach out to lay my hand on his jaw.

 

_I am sitting in the passenger seat of a car that is making its way down a dark road. I glance around and my eyes settle on Derek. He is younger now, maybe seventeen or eighteen. His eyes don’t yet hold the damage and grief that I am used to seeing when I look at him._

_His cell phone rings, startling me. He fishes it out of his pocket, hits send, and puts it up to his ear. I hear a woman’s voice, but I can’t make out what she is saying. Derek smiles and the happiness in his eyes makes my heart ache._

_“No, I took the long way home. You sound upset, what’s wrong, Kate?” he says sincerely. The mention of her name sends fury shooting through my veins. Kate Argent strung Derek along to gather information about his family. Then she and some other hunters burned down his house, killing eight members of his family._

_“I just…I didn’t think that you would answer the phone…” I hear Kate say swiftly. I want to grab the phone out of Derek’s hands and smash it into a million little pieces._

_Derek lifts his head sharply and shifts it to the right. I don’t know what he is hearing, but I have seen him do it enough to know that he hears something. “Kate…I think I hear sirens. I have to go, baby, I will call you later,” he says quickly then he hangs up before she can say a word._

_He floors the gas pedal and the car shoots forward. I instinctually try to grab the handhold on the door, but my fingers slip through. As he turns onto the dirt road that leads to the old Hale house the sound of sirens starts to ring in my ears._

_“No…please…I don’t want to see this!” I chant as I try again to open the car door. I already had to watch Stiles lose his mother today; I really don’t want to watch Derek lose his entire family too._

_The red and blue lights coming off of the ambulances and cop cars throw beacons into the dark sky. Smoke billows up into the air, blocking out the light of the full moon. The house comes into view and I hear the breath in Derek’s lungs catch. The house is covered in flames; they are licking their way up the sides and devouring the middle._

_Tears start to stream down my face when I look over at Derek. His jaw is shaking is he fights back tears. He is clutching the steering wheel so tightly that it looks like he is going to break it. The agony in his eyes shreds my heart and leaves me bleeding._

_He pulls up in front of the house, throws the car door open, and takes three steps toward the house. Sherriff Stillinski makes his way over to Derek and catches him in his arms as Derek falls to his knees._

_“Are they…are they…” Derek’s silent sobs prevent him from finishing his question. Stiles’ father holds Derek tightly in his arms and lets him fall apart._

_“I am so sorry, Derek,” Stillinski says, the tears in his eyes gleam in the firelight. Derek saved Stiles from dying in that car crash as a child and the look on Stiles’ father’s face tells me that he knows. “Why don’t you come home with me tonight?” he asks gingerly._

_“I…I…what happened?” Derek asks as he pulls away from Stiles’ father. His eyes are bloodshot and his face is wet with tears, but his grief has morphed into rage. His entire family is dead and he wants revenge._

_“We don’t know yet, Derek, but there isn’t any reason to suspect foul play.” Stillinski reaches out for Derek, but before he can touch him Derek stands up and steps back. His eyes scan the forest, searching for any sign of the person who did this. Clearly, he doesn’t believe that this was all just an accident. “Derek, come with me,” Stillinski says as he takes a step towards his cop car._

_“Find out what happened to my family, Sheriff. Find out who killed them and put that murderer behind bars because if you don’t I will find him and I will kill him,” Derek says dispassionately. His face is alive with hatred in the glow emanating from the massive fire._

_Then he turns and walks into the woods before Stiles’ dad has time to say another word. I reach for the car door, wanting to go after him, but my fingers just slip through it again._

_Something catches my eye. I watch as firefighters bring start to haul body bags out of the fire. A scream builds in my lungs and explodes out of my as I count all eight of the black bags._

_A pair of glowing red eyes catches my eye. Derek eyes the body bags longingly then he turns and disappears into the forest._

I wake up screaming again only this time I come to lying on the couch in Derek’s living room. My face is wet with tears and my body is shaking. I can still smell the smoke in the air and see the flames in my eyes. I blink rapidly until my real surroundings come into focus.

I scan the room, taking each person into account separately. Derek is standing a few feet away from me and Stiles is sitting against the couch by my head. Allison is sitting in between Isaac and Scott on the couch across from me and Deaton is sitting at kitchen table with a mug in his hands.

“Stiles…” Even my voice is shaking. Stiles bolts upright, making me smile, and then moves to kneel before me. “Will you unlock me?” I ask. He pulls out the keys and unlocks the handcuffs. He takes my face in his hands and holds my gaze.

“What did you see, Lyida?” he asks gently. I grab his hands and give them a comforting squeeze before I stand up. My legs shake unsteadily for a moment before I gain my bearings. I can feel everyone’s eyes on me as I walk over to Derek. There is something in his forest-green eyes that tells me he know what I just saw.

“I’m so sorry…Derek,” I say as I try to hold back my tears. I’ve known for a while what happened to his family, but hearing about it and seeing it happen are two very different things. “That never…ever should have happened.” My voice breaks. “If I could I would-” He pulls me into his arm, cutting me off.

“You couldn’t have done anything, Lydia. Their deaths are on my hands. I was the one who told Kate where we lived. I told her that my family was coming in for a visit that weekend. It was my fault.” The lament in his voice tears at me. He sincerely believes that what happened to his family was his fault.

“No, it wasn’t your fault, Derek. You can’t blame yourself for that…you had no idea what she was,” I whisper. He stiffens against me, my first instinct is to pull away from him, but I know that he needs this as much as I do.

The smell of leather and mint that clings to his shirt sends chills across my skin. I take a deep, calming breath and then pull away from him. His eyes dig into mine, shredding me.

I walk back of to the couch, careful not to touch anyone, and sit down. My body is still shaking, but it steadies when Stiles takes my hand. I look over at him and he gives me a reassuring smile. Derek walks over to stand at my back, there is something about his presence there that is comforting.

Deaton sets down his mug and comes over to stand next to Allison. He looks down at me like I am a something he has never seen before; there is both interest and horror in his eyes.

“What’s happening to me?” I ask through clenched teeth.

 


	5. Chapter 5

“You’re a banshee, Lydia,” Deaton says matter-of-factly. I half-tempted to grab a mug off of the coffee table and throw it at him.

“I know. My psychotic, murdering English teacher told me, but thanks for the update,” I say furiously. If he just came here to tell me something I already know then we are all wasting our time. The ringing in my ears is putting me on edge; it is making my head pound.

“You misunderstand me, Lydia. All I am saying is that everything that is happening to you is competently normal. What isn’t normal is the fact that it this is happening to you at such a young age. Banshees don’t normally start to project until they are at least thirty years old.” The calm timbre of his voice settles my rapidly beating heart. I want to hate him for what he has put my friends through, but he only did it to help us.

“Projecting?” I ask skeptically.

“It is what you did with Stiles and Derek. To better explain I must give you a brief lesson on your culture so bear with me,” he pauses to take a sip of his coffee. “Human souls were created by God, so when I human dies their soul will either go to heaven or to hell. Supernatural creatures, on the other hand, evolved from humans and therefore have no natural place in heaven or hell. Do any of you know where supernatural souls go after the creature dies?” he asks with a glance around the room. I want to tell him that we aren’t in history class right now, but I hold my tongue.

“Limbo…they go to Limbo,” Allison says quietly as she chews on her lip.

“Very good, Allison, they go to Limbo. But Limbo was never supposed to exist so God created the Banshees to get rid of it. When a Banshee screams for a supernatural creature she decides whether their soul will go to heaven or hell,” he pauses, giving us all time to process. “She makes her decision through projecting, by placing herself in the creature’s memories and studying them. This enables-” Stiles cuts him off before he can finish his sentence.

“Why did she project with me? I’m human,” he says with a glace at me.

“Are you, Stiles?” Deaton asks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Derek growls.

“Use your nose, alpha. Then again, maybe you haven’t ever come into contact with an Elemental. They are very rare,” Deaton says gently. Stiles is holding my hand so tightly that it hurts. Derek bends down, placing his face a few inches from Stiles’ neck and then inhales slowly.

“Shit,” he hisses.

“What do I smell like? Oh God is it bad?” Stiles says as he scrambles away from Derek and moves to sit on the coffee table. The slight blush on his cheeks makes me smile; Derek has always made Stiles a bit jumpy.

Derek catches Stiles’ gaze and holds it. “You smell like nature; wind and rain and earth and fire. I never caught it because I thought that that was just your scent; every person has a different scent,” Derek says intensely. It is almost like everyone else in the room disappears except himself and Stiles.

“What do I smell like?” The question slips before I can quell it.

Derek meets my gaze and, to my surprise, he flashes me a smirk. “Vanilla most of the time, but when you are angry or…aroused…you smell like strawberries.” My face goes bright read and, for am moment, I can’t breathe.

“You can all smell that?” I ask with a quick glace over at Scott and Isaac who both look completely mortified. Derek’s bark-like laugh echoes around the room; I twist around to face him, furious.

“Their sense of smell isn’t anywhere near as powerful as mine, babe,” Derek says as he walks around the couch and sits down a few feet away from me.

“What the hell is an Elemental?” Stiles asks rapidly.

“They have the capacity to influence and even control the elements. Your mother was a very powerful Elemental. She had an affinity for thunderstorms, it rained nonstop for a week after you were born.” Stiles smiles, almost like he is remembering his mother telling him about the storms. His expression falters as the memory of his mother’s death seeps into his veins. He stands up and starts to pace back and forth apprehensively.

“If she was so powerful then why did she die in a fucking car crash?” The harshness in his voice tears at me. He hates talking about that night and actively avoids the subject, but this is something he can’t avoid.  

“She was injured and weak, Stiles. There wasn’t anything she could have done,” Deaton says tenderly. Stiles continues to pace back and forth like a caged lion. His anxiety permeates the air and sinks into my skin.

“Take him outside,” I whisper to Derek, whose muscles are locked and tense just watching Stiles. He nods, stands up, and walks over to Stiles.

“Let’s go outside, Stiles.” Derek coaxes Stiles out of the loft like a parent coaxing a scared child out of a dangerous situation. He holds Stiles’ gaze and whispers softly as he maneuvers him into the elevator. I’ve never seen Derek treat someone else the way he that treats Stiles.

“Does he have panic attacks often?” Deaton asks.

“That isn’t really any of your-” I star to say, but Scott cuts me off.

“Yes…he has them often,” Scott says with a sharp glance at me. He has always resented my mistrust of Deaton. In Scott’s eyes the Emissary can do no wrong.

“Has he had any therapy?” Deaton asks. Scott opens his mouth like he is going to answer, but speak before he can. They have no right to discuss this without Stiles here, I don’t care if it is for his benefit or not.

“Can you tell me anything about the dream I had last night?” I ask viciously.

“Stiles said that you have been hearing ringing in your ears for months, is that true?” Deaton asks as he laces his fingers together. He is a scary mixture between a therapist and a history teacher; it is very unnerving.

“Yes,” I mutter.

“I assume that you have been actively trying to push away this noise,” he says and I nod. I haven’t ever really thought about it that way, but I guess that I have been pushing it away.

“Clearly something is trying to talk to you, Lydia. I have no idea what or who it is, but I would advise you to stop blocking it out,” Deaton says. My heart beat speeds up when I dawn what he is saying to me. The Whisperers are real.

“I couldn’t see them in my dream. Oh God…was that even a dream?” I ask, my chest heaving as I recall last night. I woke up in the woods; whose to say that what happened to me wasn’t real? The wounds on my body were identical to the ones that I had in my dream.

“I don’t think that it was, Lydia,” Deaton whispers. I stand up and start to pace, in much the same fashion as Stiles was a few minutes ago.

“What did you see last night?” Isaac asks intuitively.

“They said that they were going to kill everyone! Why are they talking to me? Who are they going to kill? Why is this happening?” I throw questions at the wall without giving Deaton time to answer them. The ringing in my ears intensifies to the point where it feels like my head is going to explode. I place my hands over my ears and instinctively curl up into a ball. “Stop! Make it fucking stop!” I scream at the top of my lungs, but I can’t hear my own voice.

“Lydia, you need to stop blocking them out. Banshees are hyper perceptive to energies and sound. Let them talk to you.” Deaton’s voice cuts through the buzz of ringing. I understand what he is telling me to do, but I have no idea how to do it. All I can hear is the ringing; I don’t hear any voices.

“I can’t! Make it stop! Please…make them stop!” My voice is half plea and half demand. My head feels like it is going to explode and my skin is on fire. I don’t know how much longer I am going to be able to take this. I try to sort through the noise, but I all I can think about is how much pain I am in.

I start to scream, needing to be rid of whatever it is that is doing this to me. It is trying to kill me and I want it gone. My scream rips through the air and echoes around the loft.

“Lydia! Lydia, you have to stop! Allison’s ears are bleeding!” I hear Isaac roar over the sound of my own ear-splitting scream. I try to stop, but I can’t. The ringing in my ears is just getting worse.

“Deaton! Deaton stay with me!” Scott’s panicked voice rips into me. If I don’t stop Allison and Deaton are going to die. I am going to kill them the way that I killed those two men at the club. I try to close my mouth, to force my to stop, but nothing works. All I can think about is the ringing and the Whisperers.

“She can’t focus. She is in too much pain,” Allison says, sounding weak. “Take her pain away.” Her voice is barely audible now. The second that he places his hand on my cheek I know what Derek plans on doing.  Scott and Isaac each take one of my hands in theirs.

“Take it. All of it,” Derek says then, before I can object, my body fills with warmth. My muscles instantly relax and my heartbeat slow. All of my pain is gone. I can still hear the ringing, but it is different now. Instead of pushing it away, hating it, like I normally do, I let it fill me up. The ringing itself fades away slowly and is replaced by whispering.

“Is she listening?”

“Can you hear us?”

“Can you hear us?”

“We know that you can hear us.”

“You should listen.”

“Listen!”

“Listen!”

“Listen!”

“Listen!”

“Listen to us!”

They are screaming at me. The ringing in my ears is gone, but this is so much worse. “I am listening! I am fucking listening!” I scream as I press my hands against my ears in a vain effort to block out the sound.

“She is listening.”

“Listen to us, Banshee.”

“You must listen.”

“We are coming for them.”

“We will kill them.”

“We will kill them!”

“Kill who? Who are you going to kill?” I ask frantically. Their voices are echoing around in my head. I expect them to answer me, but they don’t. “Who are you? What are you? Tell me!” I scream as the voices fade out.

I am left with complete, blissful, silence. I tip my head back and exhale for the first time in what feels like forever. For months the ringing has been relentless, day and night. I relish in the silence, loving the fact that the only thing I can hear is my own unsteady breathing.

“Lydia, are you okay?” Stiles’ voice cuts through the silence. I open my eyes and his face slowly comes into focus above me. He exhales in relief and then sits back, arms on his knees.

I sit up and look around. Isaac has his arms around Allison, who looks dazed. And Scott is helping Deaton stand up. The blood running from their ears down their necks makes my heart stop. I almost killed them, both of them. I would have killed them if Derek hadn’t stopped me.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” I say as I scramble up. What the hell is wrong with me? I almost killed my best friend. I take a step back, preparing to run for it. No one is safe with me here.

Deaton catches my gaze and holds me in place. The confusion on his face scares me. “How long have you been able to do that, Lydia?” he asks darkly.


	6. Chapter 6

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I guess there is no reason to keep what happened to me a secret, but I still don’t wan to tell them. I killed two men, murdered them. Admittedly it was an accident and they were tying to rape me, but that doesn’t excuse what I did.

“Yesterday I went to this club and I was dancing with these two guys. They started to get kind of handsy so I tried to leave, but they…” I trail off awkwardly, unsure of how exactly to phrase what happened. “They started to…” Furious tears well up in my eyes.

“You didn’t tell me they were trying to hurt you,” Stiles says austerely.

“I am going to tear their fucking bodies apart.” Derek growls and stalks his way out of the loft, eyes glowing red. I start to go after him, but Scott stops me in my tracks with one look.

“Let him go. He wants blood for this,” Scott says tonelessly.

“Please continue, Lydia,” Deaton coaxes. I back up to stand next to Stiles; his shoulders are set and his muscles are taut. Clearly, Derek isn’t the only one who wants those men to pay.

“I didn’t know what to do and before I knew what was happening I was screaming.” Allison catches my eye and nods understandingly. “The next thing I knew they were both dead…” Saying it out loud makes it so much more real. I grit my teeth in an effort to hold back my tears. I glance at the door, ready to make a run for it, but before I can move Stiles pulls me into his arms.

“I got you…it’s okay, Liddy,” he whispers as he holds my head against his chest. I cling to his him, fingers buried in his worn t-shirt.

“Is that normal…for banshees?” Allison asks Deaton.

“No…but Lydia is clearly not an ordinary banshee. The only other banshee I have heard possessed this ability was your mother and she refused to talk to me about it,” Deaton says darkly.

“My mother is not a banshee,” I say as I twist around to face him.

“No your adoptive mother is not a banshee, but your birth mother is,” Deaton says matter-of-factly. My heart seizes up in my chest. I take an unintentional step back, unable to catch my breath. Deaton stands up looking apologetic. “Oh, Lydia, I had no idea that you were unaware-” I cut him off before he can finish.

“That I’m adopted!” I close the distance between us, glaring up into his coffee colored eyes. “Where is she? Why wouldn’t she talk to you?” I demand. The scream building inside of me is becoming harder and harder to suppress. Angry tears are screaming down my red face.

“I am sorry to be the one to tell you this, Lydia, but she passed away a few years ago,” Deaton says softly. It feels like he punched me in the stomach. I take a step back, teeth clamped shut to hold back my scream.

“Why…why wouldn’t she talk to you?” I ask gingerly. Deaton sits back down and buries his face in his hands, exhaling. When he looks up at me there is a question in his eyes. Do I really want to know? “Tell me,” I hiss.

“She was in a secure facility for the criminally insane,” he pauses, folding his hands together. “Some banshees take very well to their abilities, others…don’t. Your mother did some horrible things,” he says ominously. Stiles takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine.

“Such as?” I ask even though I don’t really want to know.

“She murdered people…good people,” he says gently. My throat dries up as it dawns on me that I am becoming my mother. I am turning into a killer. How long until I go on a killing spree, just like her?

I pull out of Stiles’ grip, turn away from them, and bolt up the stairs. Allison calls out my name, but I ignore her. I rush into the bathroom and lock the door behind me. I place my hands on the sink and look up into the mirror. My hair is matted with dirt and eyes are red with tears. I take a deep breath and brush away my tears.

Why didn’t my mother ever tell me that I am adopted? My father died when I was six, but that doesn’t excuse the fact that she lied to me. I turn away from the mirror, ashamed of my own reflection for the first time since middle school. I wonder if I look like her…my mother. Am I going to end up just like her, a killer?

I strip of Stiles’ jacket, turn on the shower, an step inside. I watch the dirt and blood that coat my skin circle the drain. By the time I am done washing my hair and shaving I have regained my composure. There is no reason for me to cry over a mother I never knew or worry about a future that I control. I am not going to turn into a mindless killer; I refuse to become my mother.

I grab a towel and wrap it around myself. Then, with a glance in the mirror, I walk out of the bathroom and straight into Stiles. I stumble and he tries to grab me, but instead of grabbing me he grabs the towel. It slips off of me and falls to the ground between us.

“I…I…I…that was…you are…um…I…” Stiles stammers as he does everything within his power to look at anything but my breasts. It takes everything I have to not laugh at him; he is so adorable when he is flustered.

“What?” I question as I reach for my towel. He loses his failing effort to avert his eyes and ends up blatantly staring at me. I laugh as I wrap the towel back around myself and secure I under my arm. He lifts his gaze, looking flustered. I bite the inside of my cheek in an effort to stop myself from giggling.

“Are you okay?” he asks as he runs his fingers through his hair, rumpling the already disheveled mess.

“The truth?” I ask and he nods reassuringly. “No, I’m not okay. I just found out my mother a psychotic murdering banshee. I can see inside people’s memories. Oh, and I am hearing voices, voices that are telling me that they are going to kill everyone.” I throw the words between us, praying that Stiles will help me sort out some of my crazy.

“Well apparently I’m avatar-the-last-fucking-airbender! Master all four elements and I’ll be able to defeat the Firelord,” Stiles says with a sharp laugh. His cheeks are still flushed from seeing me naked. 

“What are you talking about?” I ask, raising an eyebrow in question.

“It’s a…oh you’re watching it. I’m gonna make you watch it,” he says with a sly smile. 

“Whatever you say, firelord,” I giggle as I walk past him and close the bedroom door behind me. Stiles paces outside of the door for a moment, deliberating.

“I am sorry about the whole…” he trails off awkwardly.

“You have seen me naked before, Stiles, and you probably will again,” I say as I drop my towel and start to rummage through the mahogany drawers.

“Really? I mean I would like that…not that I am a pervert or anything. I just think that you are really beautiful…not that you aren’t beautiful with your clothes on, because you are…” Stiles rambles on, making me laugh. He really does lack a filter between his brain and his mouth. I used to think it was annoying that he always said what he was thinking, but now I think it is cute. I always know exactly what is going through his head.

I locate the clothes that I left here a few months ago and put them on. It was Derek’s idea to have us all leave some clothes here. I never really though that I would need them, but I guess I was wrong.

I open the door and look up into his amber eyes. He flashes me a smirk and takes an awkward step back, unsure of what to do with his hands. “Thanks, Stiles,” I say as I close the distance between us. Then, before he can respond, I place a kiss on his cheek and walk away from him, smiling. Being around Stiles is like being in a room with puppies. 

I make my way downstairs expecting to see everyone still sitting on the couches, but the loft looks to be empty. A clatter in the kitchen tells me that Derek is cooking something. I cross the room and walk into the kitchen. Derek glances at me over his shoulder then turns back to the pan that he is using to scramble eggs.

“I am sorry about the way I reacted earlier, Lydia,” Derek says coolly. The muscles in his back are taut and his shoulders are painfully squared. I reach out to touch his arm, acting on instinct. I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. I catch his gaze and hold it.

“Don’t ever apologize for caring about me, Derek,” I whisper then I drop my hand as Stiles walks into the room. “Hey, Stiles, will you run to the store and grab us some orange juice…Derek is out,” I say brightly, needing to get him out of the house.

“Sure thing,” Stiles says then he grabs his jacket and walks out of the loft.

Derek moves to stand in front of me, brows drawn in curiosity. “Why did you send him away? I am not out of orange juice,” he says darkly. I swallow, unable to hold it in any longer.

“Why haven’t you told him?” I ask heatedly.

“Told him what?” Derek asks, playing dumb. We both know he knows exactly what I am referring to.

“Why haven’t you told him that you were the one who saved him from that car crash? His mother begged you to save him instead of her! He deserves to-”

“You what?” Stiles’ distraught voice rings out around us. Derek and I twist around to face him. Stiles is holding his keys in one hand, he must have forgotten to grab them. The agony on his face is enough to break me. Derek tenses up, physically reacting to Stiles’ pain.

“Stiles, I…” Derek trails off, jaw clenched.

Stiles closes the distance between himself and Derek as I back away from them both and hoist myself up to sit on the table. They square up; Derek is broader than Stiles; but they are the same height. “Tell me the truth, Derek!” Stiles demands, neck arched proudly.

“Fine. I was the one who saved you from that car wreck,” Derek says, refusing to meet Stile’s gaze. He is ashamed for some reason. Stiles shoves him into the stove, sending the pan of eggs clattering to the floor. The air around us becomes denser, making it harder to breathe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles hisses through clamped teeth. The open flame on the stove dances higher as Stiles’ emotions rage; Derek reaches back to turn off the stove.

“Why does it matter that it was me?” Derek asks defensively. They are standing so close to one another that their chests are almost touching. The chemistry twisting between them is almost tangible. I’ve always known that the two of them had a bond, but I had no idea it was this strong.

“It matters because she was my mother, Derek, and you are my-” Stiles breaks off, turning his gaze away. The breath in my lungs catches as Derek stalks forward, driving Stiles into the corner of the room.

He catches Stiles’ gaze and hold him in place. Derek’s body language is animalistic and possessive, caging Stiles in with his arms. Stiles squares his shoulders obstinately, but I can tell from the look in his eyes that Derek’s closeness is getting to him. “I am your…what, Stiles?” Derek asks tonelessly.

“You’re my-” Derek cuts him off by wrapping one hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and pulling him forward. Derek kisses him like he is starved, like he is giving into something that he has been fighting for years. Stiles stands stock-still for a moment, but the second that Derek murmurs his name he melts into him.

I don’t know what to think. I know that I should be jealous of Derek, but for some reason I’m not. I care about them both too much to be angry with them for this. There is a beauty in the way that their mouths are melding, chests heaving against one another; my skin burns in response.

I shift my arm to the left and accidentally knock a coffee mug off of the table. It shatters and Derek breaks their kiss, glancing at me over his shoulder. I purse my lips in embarrassment, unsure of what to say.

Stiles speaks up before I have the chance to apologize for the broken mug. “We…we…have class…” he says gruffly as he stumbles away from Derek; I haven’t ever seen him lost for words before.

“Class, right…we will see you later, Derek,” I say as I jump off the table, grab Stiles’ hand, and pull him out of the loft.

 


	7. Chapter 7

We stumble into the elevator and the door clangs shut behind us. Stiles backs up against the wall and tips his head back, exhaling slowly. The air in the elevator is airy, almost the point of there being a breeze. I breathe it in, noting the scent of pine trees and mint that clings to the air.

 “Am I fucking losing it or did Derek Hale just kiss me?” he asks, a little breathlessly. I giggle and he lowers his gaze, blushing furiously.

“Oh, he kissed you alright…and it was hot,” I say with a wicked smirk. Stiles lifts his gaze, torn between intrigue and anger. I stifle a laugh behind my hand; his angry face is fucking adorable. I’m used to werewolves and, in comparison, Stiles is a puppy.

“You aren’t being very helpful, Lydia.”

“I’m here to predict death and destruction…not to be helpful,” I say with a sardonic wink. “But, if you want my advice…I’d say go for it. Derek is like the definition of sexy and he cares about you.”

Stiles’ smile slips, amber eyes tearing into me. I am taken with an urge to cross the elevator, take his face in my hands, and kiss him…soft and slow. I fist my hands, forcing myself to behave. What the hell is wrong with me? I don’t have the right to think about him that way. I just told him to go after Derek and Stiles deserves better than me.

“Since when?” Stiles ask, eyes yearning.

“What?” I ask, stumbling over my thoughts.

Stiles fiddles with his hands uncomfortably. “Since when does he care about me?” he asks, voice unsteady. I exhale resignedly, tossing my hair over my shoulder. Stiles has always had low self-esteem. And I’m probably to blame for most of it. God, I used to be such a bitch. Stiles does his best to cover it up, but it’s still there. He sees himself as the sidekick, the guy who never gets the girl.

“And why wouldn’t he?” I ask defensively, closing the distance between us. He straightens up, looking down at me, brows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t he care about you?” The air around us thickens, getting warmer.

“Because…well…I’m me…” he says, stammering.

The elevator clangs open and Stiles stumbles out of it, intent on escaping. I dash after him, grabbing hold of his arm in the parking lot. He twists around to face me, jaw clenched tight. I reach up tentatively, brushing my fingers down his cheek. He shudders beneath my touch.

“And that’s exactly why he cares about you.” I smile, loving the awe in his wide eyes. He looks at me like I am the only thing he can see, like I am all that matters. “You’re you.” I flash him a smile, watching as wind circles around us, picking up leaves and making them dance.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Stiles asks as I walk around his jeep, stepping up into the passenger side. He slides in next to me, pulling out his keys. I roll my eyes; he has no idea just how amazing he is. He starts his jeep and pulls out onto the road. After a few minutes he starts to get jittery, tapping his hands on the steering wheel. “Seriously, Liddy. What does that even mean?”

I laugh, glancing over at him. My smile falters when I meet his gaze. He pleads with me wordlessly, willing me to be honest with him. A tight knot forms in the pit of my stomach. He deserves the truth. He deserves to know how much he matters to all of us, how much he matters to me. But I have no idea how to tell him that he is our heart, that without him we would fall apart.

“You don’t pretend to be anything other than what you are. You know who you are and you don’t care about what anyone else thinks. You’re brilliant and funny and strong and-”

“Lydia,” he whispers, cutting me off. I clamp my jaw shut, pursing my lips awkwardly. “Look at me.” I lift my gaze, trying to hold back tears. He has always been kind to me and all I have ever done is hurt him. I am a horrible person and an awful friend. “Hey…hey…what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I say sharply, brushing the tears from my cheeks. He pulls the jeep over and kills the engine, turning to face me.

“I know that when a girl says ‘nothing’ she really means ‘everything.’ Talk to me.” The sincerity in his eyes shreds my resolve. For some reason, he cares about me. “You know you can tell me anything. I’ve got a masters degree in Lydia Martin,” he says, making me laugh.

He smiles, letting silence settle around us. I know what it means when Stiles stops talking. He is a constant slew of sarcasm, comic book references, and jibber-jabber. That is unless he genuinely wants to listen. If he does, he’ll be quiet for the longest time…patient and attentive.

“Why are you so nice to me? I treated you like dirt for years. You should hate me,” I whisper. My throat aches, tears stinging my eyes. I reach frantically for the door handle, needing to escape. He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. I whimper, clenching my eyes shut.

“I know you. You’re not that person and you never were.” The honesty in his voice cuts me like razor blades. He believes what he is saying, but I’m not so sure I do. “You were protecting yourself.” He reaches over and puts his hand under my chin, gently lifting my gaze. My heart stills when his eyes meet mine.  

 “You deserve better,” I say, hiccupping.

He smiles softly, eyes gleaming with warmth. “I don’t want better. I want you,” he says, brushing his thumb across my cheek. My heart lurches, making me gasp. I’ve known he was in love with me since third grade, but knowing it and hearing it are two different things.

I want him to know how much he means to me. I love him…at least that’s what it feels like. I can’t be sure because I’ve never felt about anyone the way I feel about him. He’s my best friend…a constant light in the darkness. “Stiles, I-”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he says, pulling his hands away. I open my mouth to argue but the roar of the jeep’s engine cuts me off. “You don’t see me that way.” He scoffs, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I keep trying.” My mouth dries up; I don’t want him to stop trying. I never want him to stop trying.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It’s fine, Liddy. We better go, we’re gonna be late for class.”

I nod, turning back to face the road. Maybe it’s for the best. Stiles deserves to be with someone amazing. Someone who takes care of him and lets Stiles take care of them. If that person is Derek then he sure is a lucky man.  

It takes us ten minutes or so to get to the college. Its been dying down as summer and finals creep up on us. Scott and Stiles both decided to be criminal justice majors, Allison is a history major, and I am a science major. Isaac, on the other hand, works at Derek’s auto body shop. Derek has been trying to talk him into college, but he’s been adamantly against it. I think he worries about leaving Derek alone. The two of them have cemented a close familial bond.  

Stiles parks the jeep next to Scott’s truck, waving to his best friend like a little kid. I smile, adoring his enthusiasm, as I get out of the jeep. Allison crosses the street, walking up to us. She hands me my purse and my notebook.

“Are you alright?” she asks. I nod curtly, hoping that my eyes aren’t overly bloodshot. Not that Allison would push me for answers. She’s got a talent for letting things lie. It’s why she is so good with Isaac. She never presses for information; she simply lets us open up when we are ready.

Allison and I cross the street, parting ways with the boys. When we are far enough away to avoid Scott’s heightened hearing, I grab Allison’s arm, yanking her to a stop. She turns to face me, brows furrowed. I exhale unsteadily, unsure how to tell her how I feel. She deserves to know. I’ve been giving her the cold shoulder for weeks.

“Stiles may be our resident Lydia Martin expert, but I’m pretty good at telling when you’re upset.” Allison graces me with a soft smile, wordlessly encouraging me to open up. “You don’t have to tell me anything, but—”

“I think I am in love with Sitles.” My hand shoots up to cover my mouth. That wasn’t what I meant to say. What did I mean to say? Fuck.

Allison laughs, startling me out of my own head. I lift my gaze, lips pursed. She’s smiling, ebony eyes alight with warmth. I tell her I am in love with Stiles ‘I’ve got a baseball bat’ Stilinski and she’s smiling at me like I just won the goddamn lottery.

“Scott owes me fifty bucks,” she says, smirking.

“What?”

She laughs, confusing me further. “Scott thought it would take at least two years for you to admit it, but I knew better. You figured it out senior year when Stiles went missing…it was only a matter of time before you told me.”

I mouth at the air, completely in awe of her. “You knew?” Her smile slips and she reaches out to take my hand.

“When Stiles got possessed you kind of lost it. You stopped sleeping, stopped eating. You would disappear for days. Derek tracked you down, but he refused to tell us where he found you or what you were doing.” She bites her lip, looking a little guilty.

I grit my teeth. I honestly don’t remember a lot of my senior year. It was insane. Stiles got possessed. Allison almost died. I thought maybe it was PTSD, but Allison is making it sound less clinical and more supernatural. Stiles was possessed and I wanted to save him. So I guess I, as Stiles would say, Hulked out. There’s no telling what I was doing. Very little is know about the behavior and abilities of banshees, or so says Deaton.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I ask, clutching my purse like a lifeline.

“After we killed the Nogitsune you went back to normal. Well other than…”

“Other than what?” I ask, teeth clenched.

She shifts uncomfortably. “You started screaming when Stiles had nightmares. Your mom couldn’t wake you up and you wouldn’t stop until Stiles was awake. Scott and I were really worried, but Derek said it was good.”

“Good!” I yell, throwing my hands up exasperatedly.

“Yeah, I think he knows more about banshees than he claims. He said that you were helping Stiles cope, taking away his pain.”

I shake my head, running though every memory I have of my senior year. My mom was really worried about me, but I thought it had to do with me going to college. Stiles was a mess. He had panic attacks daily. No one could calm him down except me or Derek. My gut curls into a tight knot as reality settles on my shoulders. Stiles is in love with both of us and…God help us…Derek and I are in love with him.

“Derek and Stiles kissed. And I told Stiles to go after him because Stiles deserves someone like Derek, someone who can protect him. Derek loves him and Stiles…Stiles…loves both of us,” I say rapidly, spitting out the truth. Allison’s jaw drops, eyes blown wide.

“You have to tell him. You have to tell Stiles that you are in love with him,” she says fervently.

I shake my head. “No. He loves Derek and Derek adores him. If I tell Stiles he’ll just get all conflicted and feel like he has to choose between us. I don’t want to cause him any more pain that I already have.”

“Who says he’ll have to choose?” Allison asks, blushing slightly.

“What are you talking about?”

“You think Derek is hot, right?” she asks, smirking.

“Everyone and their dog thinks Derek Hale is hot,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“And Derek cares enough about you to get shot.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Do you remember talking about Polyfidelity in Psyche 2010?” she asks. I nod; heart flooding as I realize what she is getting at. “A monogamous relationship can consist of more that one person, Lydia.”

For a fraction of a second I let the idea bloom in my head, but then I banish it. “A threesome…seriously, Allison!” I step around her, making my way towards the science building. “The banshee, the werewolf, and the elemental…because that’ll end well,” I say sharply, trying to ignore the tightness in my chest. I don’t deserve Stiles or Derek, let alone both of them. I won’t ruin their relationship by adding myself to the equation.

Allison catches up to me, falling into place at my side. I glace over at her and she catches my gaze, smiling cleverly. I roll my eyes, trying to shrug off the idea. I had my chance with Stiles and I blew it, end of story.

Forcing myself to focus on getting to class, I try to not to think about the way Derek pushed Stiles against the wall and kissed him. I try no to think about them both going down one me…and each other. God, it’s going to be a long day.


	8. Chapter 8

I spend all day trying, and failing, to push Stiles and Derek out of my mind. I love Stiles, that truth is painfully obvious. But, I don’t know how I feel about Derek. He is gorgeous, that much is a given. I don’t know him as well as I do Stiles, but I know enough. Derek is as loyal as they come. He cares about his pack and, as Allison said, he cares about me.

The idea of being with them festers in the back of my mind, eating away at me. I wander around campus, lost in my own head. I tell myself that the idea ridiculous, because it is, but the image of us together refuses to vacate my mind. God, seeing them kiss this morning…

“Liddy!” I straighten up, blinking rapidly. Turning, I see Stiles walking towards me. I glance around, realizing that I am seated on the edge of a fountain. No one ever goes near park that surrounds it, let alone the fountain itself. Supposedly, it’s haunted or something. Wait, did I go to Biology? “Wanna see something awesome?” Stiles ask. He’s practically bouncing with excitement.

“Cooler than that shirt?” I ask, one eyebrow arched. Stiles glances down at his shirt, featuring Deadpool seated on the Iron Throne. He squares his shoulders and arches his neck proudly.

“I’ll have you know this shirt is like the coolest thing ever!” he says smugly. I roll my eyes; his nerdiness is so freaking cute. “Deadpool is the one of the only comic book character ever to break the fourth wall. Therefore he would know how fucking fantastic Game of Thrones is. Why wouldn’t he-”

“Stiles!” He takes an uneasy step back, playing with his hands nervously. I giggle, making him blush. My throat dries up as I crush the urge to jump into his arms and kiss him. “You were going to show me something,” I say, clearing my throat.

His eyes brighten and he starts to bounce again. “Right! Stand up,” he says gesturing me up. I stand, taking a few steps towards him.  “Close your eyes.”

I close my eyes, lips pursed. “I swear, Stiles, if you are using this as an excuse to stare at my boobs I am gonna-” I gasp as wind, warm and smelling of the ocean, swirls around my. It lifts my dress and plays with my hair, curious and teasing. I breathe it in and let it fill me up.

“Open,” Stiles whispers. I open my eyes and my jaw drops. The wind that is circling around me is filled with pink cherry blossoms. It’s beautiful, a swirl of pale color blurring my vision. Laughing, I drop my purse, put out my arms, and start to twirl. The wind bends around my limbs, moving with my body as I lose myself in the moment. I can’t remember the last time I felt this free, this safe.

The wind dies down as I run out of breath. Dizzy, I stumble. Stiles slips an arm around my waist, stabilizing me. I look up at him, smiling brightly. He’s wearing a soft smirk, amber eyes full and earnest. A tight knot forms in my stomach. I put my hand on his chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat.

_I am standing in a dark hallway, dimly illuminated one light. It is hanging off of the ceiling, a single strand of florescent light. It flickers and my heart stops, seizing in my chest. Where am I?_

_I take a hesitant step forward, praying that the light continues to work. The ceramic floor is cheap, the kind of floor you would see at a hospital, but it’s dirty. There is a thick stain across it. As I get closer to the light I realize that the stain is actually a streak of blood. It looks like someone was dragged down the hall. I bend down, wanting to get a better look._

_My chest lurches when I see the nail marks cutting through the blood. Heart hammering, I straighten up. I take a few unsteady steps back, staring down at the violent streak of crimson._

_Icy wind snakes past me, curling around my ankles. Shivering, I wrap my arms around myself. Frantically, I try to remember the last place I was. The image of pink flower pedals flashes before my eyes. Stiles. I touched Stiles. Which means that what I am seeing isn’t real. It is a memory…one of Stiles’ s memories._

_“This isn’t real. It’s not real.” I repeat the words over and over, tying to ignore the anxiety that is stripping me bare. “It’s not real. Not real. Not real...”_

_A soft whimper rings out around me. I gasp, jumping toward the light. A moment passes, but the whimpering doesn’t stop. I take a step towards the noise, pulled by some unknown force. “Please. Please.” Stiles’ voice cuts me deep. I’ve never heard him sound so desolate, so goddamn lost._

_Fists clenched tight, I follow the sound of his muffled sobbing. When I reach him, I can only just make him out. The light, twenty feet or so behind me, is barely illumining him. He’s curled up in a tight ball, back pressed against the wall. He’s shaking, shaking so hard that it’s making his cries sound clipped and pointed. It’s freezing and the only thing that is covering his body is a thin pair of boxers._

_Bending down, I study him. Tears fill my eyes as I look him over. He’s emaciated, ribs threatening to cut through skin. It looks like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. His body is covered in cuts and bruises, handprints lining his thin arms._

_“Oh God, baby…” I reach out to touch him, but my fingers simply trail through his skin. When did this happen? I have never seen Stiles like this. Who hurt him? Anger tears through me, thick and hot. I want to kill someone. I want to end the person who treated him like this. I’ll scream until their brain turns to mush. I’ll beat the fuck out of them with Stiles’ baseball bat._

_The sound of someone walking towards us forces me back to the present. Stiles reacts to the noise like a terrified animal. Frantically, he scoots away from it. The sound of chains moving against one another pulls my gaze. I gasp when I see that there is a bear trap clamped around Stiles’ leg. The metal prongs are buried deep in his pale flesh. In the struggle to be rid of the trap it looks like he dislocated his ankle. His foot is kinked to the side, curled at an unnatural angle._

_I am on my knees and reaching for the trap when I remember that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t save him. Tears streaming down my face, I stand up and turn towards the sound of footsteps._

_The person approaches slowly, deliberately. I know that I can’t protect Stiles, but knowing that I am standing between him and his assailant is making me feel better. The sound of him crying behind me is breaking my heart. He’s trying to free himself from the bear trap, but in his struggle, he is only causing himself more pain. His movements are frenzied, bordering on insane. It’s like he doesn’t care if he loses his foot, just as long as he can escape._

_“Please. Please. Please!” His cries get louder as the footsteps grow closer. My stomach aches, body tight with tension. I hate this. I hate hearing him in pain, hearing him scared. “Please!”_

_The person walking towards me chuckles, deep and leisurely. Stiles responds by grabbing hold of the bear trap, trying to pry it apart. The metal cuts into his skin, reopening half-healed wounds. My heart lurches as I watch him struggle. His long fingers at the seams, bones peeking through skin._

_“Please. It’s always please with you lately. I miss the good old days, back when you had a little fight left in you.” My brows furrow in confusion as I watch the person walk into the light. It’s Stiles…or at least the Nogitsune version of him. The difference between them is slight, but startling. The Nogitsune walks slower, movements more precise. His hands are hanging at his sides, unmoving where Stiles’ never stop. And his eyes, Stiles’ amber eyes, are cold and distant. “I think I may have broken you,” the Nogitsune says flatly. “And everyone knows broken toys are no fun.”_

_“Please…” Stiles begs, body giving out. His chest heaves against the ground as he sobs, broken nails scraping the linoleum._

_“Please, what?” the Nogitsune asks as he swaggers up to me. I hold my ground, but my hands are shaking. I have never been scared of Stiles, normally I feel safe with him, but I am scared of what is standing before me. He’s looking through me, staring down at Stiles almost disinterestedly. “What are we begging for today? The usual?” The Nogitsune steps through me and I shudder, wrapping my arms protectively around myself._

_“Don’t hurt them. Do whatever you want to me. But…please…please…” Stiles’ cries become steadily quieter, losing their power as he loses his strength._

_The Nogistsune chuckles as he leans back against the wall, arms folded across his chest. He settles the heel of one sneaker on the toe of the other, relaxing as he watches Stiles struggle at his feet. He is looking at Stiles like Stiles is a worm struggling to cross the sidewalk during a rainstorm. There is zero interest in his gaze, only annoyance and arrogance. A walking, talking God complex…_

_I want to tear his throat out. I want to see him dead more than I have every wanted anything. I remind myself that he is dead, that we killed him. But that fact doesn’t make listening to Stiles cry any less painful._

_“You can beg for their lives, beg me to spare the people you love. Lydia Martin. Derek Hale. Your father.” He circles around Stiles, naming us off like a child picking petals off of a flower. “But it doesn’t matter. They are going to die whether or not I kill them.” The Nogitsune bends down, grabs hold of Stiles’ hair, and wrenches his head back. Stiles screams and I fall to my knees, hands shaking. “They are coming! They are coming and there is nothing you can do to stop them!”_

_“Who! Who is coming!” Stiles asks, voice shredded. Tears drip off of his nose onto the floor, baring the white floor as the liquid rids it of dirt. The Nogitsune releases him and straightens up, chuckling nonchalantly. “Who? What are you talking about? Tell me.”_

_The Nogitsune circles slowly around him, head cocked to the side like a cat eyeing a bird. “You best keep that banshee you love so much safe. Beautiful Lydia Martin…brilliant Lydia Martin…brutal Lydia Martin.” The Nogitsune starts to laugh, shrill and psychotic. My skin crawls as I watch him throw his head back, wicked sneer playing on his lips._

_“You…you stay away from her,” Stiles pleads, shredding my heart. The Nogitsune stops laughing and glances down at Stiles, expression torn between boredom and irritation. “Please don’t hurt her.”_

_The Nogitsune rolls his eyes. “You beg for her life. As if I would kill her, the most powerful banshee ever to walk the earth. No…I’m not going to kill her.” He bends down and reaches out, connecting the bruises on Stiles’ back like he is connecting the dots. Stiles shudders beneath his touch, spine curling as he tries to avoid it. “No, I think I’ll leave her to them.”_

_Them? Who the fuck is them? Is he referring to the Whisperers? How the hell did the Nogistsune know they would come after us? How did he know about their connection to me? Did he send them after us before we killed him?_

_Before I can react, the Nogitsune grabs the end of Stiles’ chain, rips it out of the wall, and starts walking with it wrapped around his hand. He drags Stiles behind him, screaming. I clamp my hands over my ears, trying vainly to block out the noise. I watch, tears blurring my vision, as Stiles is dragged away from me…clawing at the linoleum._

Author's Note - Thanks for all of the lovely comments and kudos. I adore them and, little heads up, leaving them makes me want to write more. ;)


	9. Chapter 9

I wake up screaming, noise tearing its way out of my lungs. Chocked sobs follow, racking my body until I can’t breathe. Everything hurts, a dull ache that’s threatening to end me. My heart seizes, tears burning trails down my face. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

“Lydia! Goddammit, Lydia, breathe!” Stiles yells. “I’m right here. I’m okay.  Breathe. Just breathe.” The fear in his voice brings me out of my own head. A jolt runs down my spine and I gasp, struggling to refill my starved lungs.

Light blinds me when I open my eyes, boring its way deep into my scull. Stiles’ face slowly comes into focus, blurred by my tears. His brows are furrowed, jaw clenched with concern. I am sitting on his lap, straddling his body. He has his hands clamped around my wrists, struggling to keep me in place.

“Stiles.” My voice is cracked, frayed. He releases me and pulls my shaking body into his arms, tucking my face against his chest. I sob, clinging to his shirt. He buries a hand in my hair, holding me close.

“It’s okay, Liddy. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he whispers, voice quivering. He’s scared, really scared. How long have I been like this? And what the fuck did I just see? Projecting enables me to see memories, but that wasn’t a memory. The Nogitsune never took Stiles captive, at least not physically.

Pulling back, I look him over, needing to know that he isn’t hurt. The battered boy from that memory is not the man sitting in front of me. It has been a year since Stiles was possessed. The vulnerability that used to inhabit his eyes, all lost and heart-broken, is almost gone. But I can’t get the image of him, bruised and sickly, out of my head.

“He…he had you chained to a wall,” I mutter, whimpering. Stiles expression falters, turning dark. His brows draw together slowly, eyes steady and focused.

“What did you just say?” he asks deliberately, reaching his hands up to hold my face. I close my eyes, leaning into his touch. He brushes his thumbs across my cheeks, sending warmth flooding through my veins. “Please, Lydia, it’s important.” I open my eyes, blinking away tears. I don’t want to talk about it, but I need to understand. I need him to explain what I just saw.

“We were in this dark hallway. The Nogitsune had you chained to the wall with a bear trap. You were begging him not to…hurt us. He-”

Stiles cuts me off by grabbing my hips and lifting me off of him. He sets me down next to him and then stands up. I glance around, realizing that I am in Derek’s basement, sitting on the couch across from the tv. Stiles takes a few calculated steps away from me and then starts to pace, hands clenched. I watch him walk, brushing the tears from my face.

After a few minutes he stops short, twisting around to face me. “How could you have seen that!” he asks, startling me. Nervous, I pull my legs up and tuck them under my body. Regret cuts across his face as he realizes he just scared me. His posture instantly changes, becoming less threatening. “God, I’m sorry. I’d just convinced myself that none of that was real and hearing you say it…”

“What do you mean?” I ask, hiccupping.

Stiles fists his hands in his hair, shaking his head back and forth in disbelief. “I wasn’t real. Everything that you saw, me…like that…” he trails off, closing his eyes.  I stand up, closing the distance between us on unstable legs.

“It looked like you hadn’t eaten in weeks. You were covered in bleeding wounds! He dragged you away from me, screaming!” My voice is sharp. Tears fill my eyes as the image of him being dragged away fills my mind. “Are you telling me that none of that was real?”

Stiles cups my chin in his hand, forcing me to look at him. “Yes, that’s exactly what I am saying. None of it happened. I thought it was real, but it wasn’t.” He grits his jaw furiously. He’s angry with himself, angry that he didn’t realize it was all in his head. “I thought he had me locked up somewhere. I thought was being starved, tortured…for weeks. Turns out none of it ever happened.” The bleak, exhausted look in his eyes claws at me. He thinks that because it wasn’t real, it didn’t happen.

“No!” I say irately. He drops his hand, taking a step away from me. “You don’t get to discount what you went through. I don’t know whether or not it was real, but don’t tell me that it didn’t happen. I was there! You were in pain! You felt everything that he did to you!” I am yelling, crying. “I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t do any-” Stiles pulls me into his arms, cutting me off.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he whispers, running cradling my head with his hand. “At first I fought him, but I lost myself near the end. I don’t remember much, just pain and hunger…over and over again.”

I ease back, looking up into his eyes. “I’m sorry you went through that. Why didn’t you tell me?” He smiles softly, running a finger down the side of my face. The love in his eyes runs me through, threatening to kill me. For some reason, I matter to him. I own a piece of his beautiful heart and that fact pains me more than any other.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” he says softly, brushing away my tears. “I don’t ever want to be the reason why you’re crying…ever.” It’s less of a statement, and more of a promise. My heartbeat slows, breath seizing in my lungs. He’s incredible; he is everything that I don’t deserve.

“I don’t cry for just anyone,” I say with a half-hearted chuckle. Stiles graces me with a smile, making my heart stop.

“Well then, I’m honored,” he says with a wink. I laugh, wanting to kiss him. Quickly, I remind myself that he has no idea how I feel and that he never will. I am bad news, a wreck, and Stiles deserves someone stable. He needs strength and I’ve got none to give.

“Where’s Derek?” I ask as I step away from Stiles, needing to distance myself.

“He wolfed out when I brought you in. Last I checked he was pacing at the top of the stairs.” Stiles glances over at the staircase, worrying his bottom lip.

“He’s in wolf form?” I ask, one eyebrow arched. Normally, Derek only phases when he’s out hunting or if there is a fight. Morphing into a 500-pound wolf is wicked cool, but Derek’s wolf is something of a brute. After we killed the Nogitsune, Derek’s wolf refused to leave Stiles’ side. If Stiles is to be believed, Derek slept at the foot of his bed for a month.

“Yeah, you were crying…screaming my name. Derek kinda lost it.” Stiles sighs, running a hand down his jaw. “It’s probably for the best. Scott told me Derek hasn’t wolfed in weeks. Personally, I think it’s got something to do with you.”

“Me? I didn’t do anything!” I say shrilly, heart skittering. Oh, God, does he know? Can elementals read minds or something? I sure hope not. The last thing Stiles Stilinski needs is more information. His head is already splitting at the seams, spilling over with lore and facts about Spiderman.

“Oh you haven’t done anything…other than spend the last month acting like a reclusive head case! You dropped off the face of the planet, stopped eating, stopped sleeping, stopped taking our calls. Then when you finally do show your face, you’ve got serial murderers whispering to you, weird memory powers, and a scream that kills people. Oh, yeah…you’re fine,” Stiles says exasperatedly. I laugh and then burst into tears, slumping down onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” I say, burying my face in my hands.

Stiles groans, furious with himself for upsetting me. “None of that was your fault. God, I’m such a dick,” he says as he sits down next to me. “C’mere.” He tucks me up against him, toying with a lock of my hair. “All I was trying to say is that Derek cares about you. Up until an hour ago, I thought I was the only person who could fuck with his control like that.”

My throat dries up, stomach tightening painfully. Derek probably just thinks of me as a little sister, as a member of his pack. He’s simply protecting his family. Him phasing for me means nothing. Stiles is just digging where there isn’t dirt. Right?

 “Have you got a master’s degree in Derek Hale that I need to worry about?” I ask, brushing the tears from my face. Stiles laughs. The sound, carefree and reckless, plays on my skin and sinks in my bones.

“What can I say? I’m very educated,” he says arrogantly. I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the way my stomach tightens when he looks down at me. 

“Prove it, Firelord,” I whisper, head tilted to the side. Stiles laughs, blushing adorably. I know that I shouldn’t toy with him, but he’s just so damn cute when he’s flustered. His smile disappears and his gaze drops to my lips, eyeing them like he’d die if he could just kiss me. My throat dries up, heart kicking into overdrive.

“Lydia,” he says softly, willing me to look at him. I want to but know that if I do, I’ll cave. I am walking a thin line and one look at his eyes will push me over the edge. I can’t risk it. Stiles deserves someone strong and fierce, a protector. I can’t even keep myself safe, let alone someone else.

I stand up, clearing my throat. “What I mean is…I want to see your diploma,” I say, laughing awkwardly. Stiles exhales, running a hand through his air. The tension between us dissipates ever so slightly, but doesn’t disappear. I rock back and forth on my feet, scolding myself for giving him hope where there is none. 

Stiles stands up, wringing his hands reflexively. “You got it. They are framed and everything. It’s real classy,” he says as he walks past me, voice deep and throaty. I exhale, trying to ignore the slight tingling in my body. It feels like someone kicked up the temperature, making me sweat.

I follow him up the stairs, staying three steps behind him. “We need to have a pack meeting. I’ll text everybody and tell them to meet us here in a few hours. Derek’s got frozen pizza, right?” I ask, avoiding Stiles’ gaze.

He snorts, making me smile. “Of course he has frozen pizza! He always keeps it in the house for Scott and Isaac. That, and strawberry Poptarts for me, Coco Puffs for you, and fruit for Allison,” he says, listing them off. I lift my gaze, baffled. I had no idea Derek was so thoughtful. It’s one thing for him to have our backs in a fight, but it’s another him to stock our favorite foods.

“Who told him I like Coco Puffs?” I ask, brows furrowed. There are very few people who know me well enough to be aware of my favorite food.

“You carry a little box of them in your purse for emergencies, Liddy! No one had to tell him,” Stiles says, laughing. “Not that you ever save them for emergencies.” I scoff, sliding past him with a light shove. He stumbles, putting a hand up on the wall to stabilize himself.

“You deserved that,” I say arrogantly, glancing over my shoulder at him.

He smirks wickedly, taking me by surprise. There’s a little devil in his eyes, all sex and smoke. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. “I don’t mind,” he says, giving me a painfully slow onceover. “The view’s better back here anyways.” I choke, stumbling up the stairs. He laughs, making me blush.

We are greeted by Derek in the living room, still in wolf form. He walks up to me and I take an uneasy step back. I’ve never seen him in wolf form and, frankly, he’s intimidating. His fur is the color of the night sky, so black it’s almost blue. He is about four feet tall, all muscle and teeth. And his eyes…God his eyes.

“He’s huge!” I say, watching Derek make his way over to us.

Stiles chuckles. “Talk about an ego boost.” I roll my eyes. Dick joke…count on Stiles to never miss the chance for one of those. I watch, wide-eyed, as Stiles tackles Derek. The wolf simply huffs, glancing at Stiles with an almost annoyed expression. “Awh, come on, Wolfie. Lydia is fine.” Derek looks over at me and then turns back to Stiles, who is on his knees trying to push Derek over. The wolf shifts to the left, sending Stiles to the floor.

I laugh as Derek lopes up to me, huge paws absorbing the sound of his movement expertly. I hold my ground, but I’m scared. His red eyes are unnerving, demonic. Stiles watches us, standing a few feet away with a sly smile on his lips. I put my hand out, willing it to stop shaking. Derek woofs softly, nosing my hand. I laugh when he licks my palm, heart skittering.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Derek, but…your really beautiful,” I say as Derek circles around me.

Stiles chuckles as he falls back on the couch. “Here that, Der? You’re beautiful,” he says, drawing out the word ‘beautiful’ until it sounds absolutely absurd. Derek growls at him, making me laugh.

I watch as Derek circles. He stops in front of me, nosing the hem of my shirt to get at my skin. I pull back, one eyebrow arched. Derek advances, looking agitated. “Stiles, I…” I trail off, unsure what the hell is going on.

“He’s just wants to smell you to make sure you are okay. Clothes cover up your scent. You have nothing to worry about unless he starts scenting your neck,” Stiles says, earning a sharp growl from Derek. I lift the hem of my shirt, allowing the wolf access to my hip.

“Scenting?” I ask, hoping Derek is distracted with my scent.

Stiles glances down at Derek, playing with his fingers anxiously. Clearly it is personal, otherwise Derek wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. “Can I tell her, Derek? I know it is kinda personal…wolfish behavior an all.” Derek glances back at Stiles, giving him a curt nod before retuning to my skin. Stiles gives me an warm smile as I run my fingers through the fur on Derek’s neck. “What do you know about a werewolf’s sense of smell?”

I rack my brain for every fact I have ever read about werewolves. “They have an extremely sensitive sense of smell. It’s so powerful that they can smell emotions, sense a rainstorm days before it hits,” I say, glancing down at Derek. His fur has a coarse outer layer and a downy-soft under layer. He leans in to my touch, nosing my arm.

“You’re right…as per the usual,” Stiles says, rolling his eyes. “But, they also use scent in a social way. Members of a pack touch one another, combining there scents so that they smell like a unit. If a wolf smells like a pack, other wolves won’t attack him or her.” I nod; that does explain why Isaac and Scott are always jumping on Derek, wrestling with the older wolf.

“Okay, what’s my neck got to do with it?” I ask as Derek motions for me to go sit down with Stiles. I follow his lead, seating myself on the massive sectional. To my surprise, Derek steps up onto the couch and settles himself between us. He rests his head in my folded legs, closing his eyes. Stiles buries a hand in Derek’s fur, eyeing the wolf curiously. I don’t blame him for being confused. It doesn’t make sense why Derek laid his head on me instead Stiles.

Stiles clears his throat, swallowing. It doesn’t look like he is jealous of the attention that Derek is giving me…more like he’s intrigued by it. “Werewolves mark their mate’s neck with their scent. Licking, biting, sucking…that way other wolves know not to mess with that’s theirs.” Stiles blushes and Derek woofs, flicking Stiles with his tail.

I giggle as I grab my phone off of the coffee table. Quickly, I send out a mass text message informing everyone about the pack meeting. Slowly Stiles’ words settle and something dawns on me.

“Woah! Hold the fuck up…did you just say mate?”


	10. Chapter 10

Stiles bursts out laughing, waking Derek up. The wolf growls and Stiles instantly quiets down, smirking at me. “It’s not some weird soulmate thing or anything like that. A wolf’s mate is just their significant other. If they decide to-” Stiles breaks off, looking perplexed as he searches for the right words. “If they decide to get married…so to speak…then they’ll mark each other’s necks.”

“Mark?” I ask, feeling like a complete idiot. I thought I knew all there was to know about werewolves, but apparently not.

“Bite,” Stiles says nonchalantly.

“But wouldn’t that turn a human?” I ask, racking my brain.

“Yeah, but neither of us are human,” Stiles says with a clever smirk. I arch an eyebrow at him. Why the fuck am I included in this equation? As much as I’d love to be the peanut butter in their sandwich…that is never going to happen.

“Speaking of supernaturals,” I say, wanting to change the subject. “What you did with those cherry blossoms was amazing! I’d never seen anything like it.” Stiles smiles bashfully, giving me that look again…his ‘you are my fucking world’ look. It takes my breath away, making my heart race.

“I’m gettin’ the hang of it,” Stiles says as he tears his eyes off of me. “Each element feels different and responds to me differently. Wind is easy-going, water is picky, earth is stubborn, and fire is temperamental. Wind responds to me instinctually, but earth is being kind of a dick.” He talks about them like they are alive; like they are people that he is having conversations with. “Water likes me more than fire does.” He glances over at the window and, right on cue, rain starts to pelt the glass.

“Oh my God!” I say, giggling. “That is so not fair! You get to be Storm and I’m Nancy Necromancer or something.” I throw my hands up in exasperation. Turning, I see Stiles staring at me, wide-eyed and smirking. “What?”

“Did you just say Storm…as in Storm from X-Men?” he asks, amber eyes gleaming with excitement. He’s having trouble sitting still and it’s upsetting the alpha werewolf sleeping between us. Derek growls, but Stiles continues to bounce impatiently.

“I guess you are rubbing off on me…” I say nonchalantly, even though the truth is that been raiding the comic book store on the weekends. At first I just wanted to understand what the hell Stiles was talking about, but I’ve really grown to love them. The artists and writers are incredibly talented, weaving art and literature together to create one seamless story.

“Who is your favorite mutant?” Stiles asks.

“Mystique,” I answer automatically. I realize, two seconds two late, what I’ve just done. Stiles jumps up, causing Derek to growl irritatedly. I giggle, running a hand through Derek’s fur to calm him down.

“Have you been reading comic books? Don’t lie because my life literally depends on your answer,” he says as he paces in front of us. His enthusiasm is utterly infectious. That’s the thing about Stiles, he’s got the heart of a five year old. He could spend all day coloring, playing with small animals, and watching cartoons. His happiness is like a breath of fresh air for us. It is the reason that, without Stiles, this pack would fall apart.

I contemplate lying for a few seconds, but his ‘kicked-puppy’ look is like the worst thing ever. “Yes, Stiles. I read comic books,” I say, sounding like an addict admitting that they do Crack. Stiles smiles so widely it looks like his face is going to split and then he starts talking, words spilling out of his mouth so fast that I can’t keep up with him.

“…I mean of course you like Raven. She’s amazing and beautiful and talented. So you can relate to that. Wait…why did you start reading them?” he asks, turning to look at me. I relay his words back in my head, working through them until I get to his question.

Again, I think about lying, but I can’t. “Because of you. I wanted to know what you were talking about. I wanted to have something that we could talk about…something in common with you.” My mouth dries up and I drop my gaze. What the hell did I just do? God, I am so stupid. It’s like I am actively trying to screw up my relationship with Stiles.

“I love you,” he says. I look up at him and watch as he realizes what he jus said to me. He swallows awkwardly, dropping his hands. I open my mouth to respond, to tell him that it’s okay and that I love him too, but he cuts me off. “God, Lydia. I am so sorry. I’m gonna…get some air. I’ll be back for the pack meeting.” He turns, grabs his jacket, and starts walking towards the door.

“Stiles! Don’t leave,” I say, tears brimming in my eyes. Stiles disappears behind the big sliding door, leaving Derek and I alone. I bury my face in my hands, sobbing softly. What the hell is wrong with me? Stiles is in love with me and I am in love with him. It should be simple. Right?

Derek lopes into the bathroom and returns a few minutes later in human form, dressed in a low-slung pair of grey sweats and a black t-shirt. I brush away my tears, not wanting him to see me like this. To my surprise, he sits down on the couch next to me and pulls me into his arms. I tuck myself up against his chest, tears streaming down my face.

“Why don’t you just tell him?” Derek asks, running a hand through my hair. I exhale unsteadily, hiccupping.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, even though I know exactly what he is talking about. The real question is; how does Derek know that I’m in love with Stiles? And why would he want me to tell Stiles? Derek is just as in love with Stiles as I am.

“You can play dumb with him, but don’t try it with me, babe. You are in love with him. You have been for a while now.” His voice is calm and steady. It eases my rapidly beating heart, reassuring me. Derek has always made me feel safe and protected; he has that way about him.

“Prove it,” I say defiantly, tilting my chin.

Derek scoffs, smirking. “Your heartbeat spikes when he looks at you. When he is around you smile…which isn’t something you do often. He touches you and your scent changes, gets deeper.” He grabs my chin, lifting my gaze until I am looking into his beautiful green eyes. “I know what love looks like and you love him.”

I grit my teeth, biting back the urge to argue. “Fine. I love him.” It feels good to tell someone, but now that Derek knows for sure he probably hates me. Two people who are in love with the same person don’t tend to get along.

“Then tell him. He deserves to know,” Derek says, brushing a tear from my cheek. The heat of his touch radiates through me, taking my breath away. “It kills him every time you say no. He’s been in love with you since you were in third grade.” The deep timbre in his voice runs down my spine like hot water. He continues to stroke my cheek, framing my face.

“But you’re in love with him,” I say with a tone of finality, as if that fact alone means the end of this argument.

Derek chuckles and it makes me smile. He rarely smiles and almost never laughs, so I treasure the moment. “Yes, I love him, but how is that a problem?” Derek asks, eyes boring deep into me. God, he’s beautiful. I’d kill to run my fingers through his hair and down his face.

“If I tell him, then he’ll have to choose between us. And I don’t want him to lose you. You’re so good with him, so patient, and he makes you laugh. Which, let’s be honest, you rarely do,” I say rapidly, unsure how the hell he is keeping up with my insane rambling. “He deserves someone who can protect him, someone stable.”

When I look up at Derek his brows are furrowed and his jaw is set. I can’t tell whether he is confused, angry, or annoyed. “Stiles can protect himself. And he doesn’t want someone else…he wants you. And why the hell would he need to choose between us?” There is an edge in his voice, a sharpness that is all wolf. It’s not threatening, just instinctual and predatory.

“Because…well…are you implying we share him?” I ask, dumbfounded that I am even having this conversation. “What, will I get him on even days and you can have him on odd? Every other holiday and all that-”

Derek’s deep laugh cuts me off. My stomach ties itself in a knot as I revel in the sound, letting it sink into my bones. His dark eyes trail down my body, making me blush. “You are a science major, right?” he asks, taking me by surprise. What, so now we’re just going to make awkward small talk? He seriously sucks at changing the subject.

“Yes,” I say with an aggravated nod.

“Alright then, we’re going to do an experiment,” Derek says then he lifts me up and sits me down on the coffee table. I make a noise that is somewhere between a giggle and a scream. Then, before I know what’s happening, he is kneeling on the floor between my legs. “I’m going to kiss you.” His breath brushes against my lips, making me shudder. “If you don’t like it, we’ll let Stiles choose between us and that’ll be the end of it. But, if you do, you’re going to tell him and…” he trails off, eyeing my breasts hungrily.

I swallow, heartbeat skyrocketing. “And what?”

“And,” he says, brushing his lips against mine ever so slightly before pulling back. “You’ll both be mine.” He fists a hand in my hair and kisses me, deep and slow. Heat floods through me, a dull throb that threatens to unhinge me. His tongue twists around mine, demanding I let him take the lead. He pulls back, trailing wet kisses down my neck. “My mates. My family. Mine.” I tip my head back, breathless and needy. I never thought I had a property kink. I am a feminist after all, but hearing Derek Hale call me his is more than enough to give me a fetish. Hell, it would probably break the goddamn Pope himself.

Before I have time to start over thinking, Derek kisses his way back up my neck and claims my lips again. He kisses like he is starving, like I am giving him life. I tip my head, deepening the kiss. He grabs my hips and pulls me against him, sliding his hands down to cup my butt. He’s hard, thin sweats doing little to conceal his erection. I reach up and take his face in my hands, running my fingers across his stubble and burying them in his hair. He groans into my mouth, making my heart skip.

With one final punishing kiss, he pulls back. I lean in, practically begging for more. He catches my gaze, giving me an arrogant smirk. I am breathless and flushed, two seconds away from caving. God, he kisses like the devil. No wonder Stiles looked so fucked in the elevator this morning. Oh shit…Stiles. He’s off scolding himself for crossing the line in our friendship and here I am making out with his sort-of boyfriend. And here I though I was done with my bitch phase.

“Lydia, look at me,” Derek says sharply, knocking me out of my own head. I blink a few times until he comes into focus. He catches my gaze and holds me in place. “Stop freaking out.”

“I am not freaking out!” I say frantically, completely aware that freaking out is exactly what I am doing. Anxiously, I clamp my hands around the edge of the coffee table.

Derek takes my chin his hand and his touch steadies me, grounds me. “Never lie to a werewolf. It annoys us,” he says, brushing his thumb across my lower lip. I close my eyes, drinking in the sensation. “You are freaking out and you have absolutely no reason to.”

“No reason to! I just made out with the love of my life’s almost boyfriend. And you just cheated on him with me. I have half a dozen reasons to freak out.” My voice gets higher the more I talk, up until it almost sounds squeaky. This is so messed up. Did I just dig myself into my own grave?

“Stiles loves you?” Derek asks, cupping the nape of my neck.

“Yes,” I say, leaning into his touch.

“And he loves me, right?”

“Yes.” I nod, throat dry.

“And you and I are attracted to each other. We just proved that fact,” he says with a devious, ‘panty-dropper’ of a smirk.

 “Yes,” I say, staring blatantly at his lips.

“So what’s the problem? Do you think he would have an issue with the three of us being together?” he asks, green eyes shredding my resolve. Suddenly, I can’t remember why I wasn’t going to tell Stiles. I can’t think of a single reason not to. Derek lowers his head, letting me know he expects and answer to his question.

“No,” I say shakily. “He’d probably-”

“Fucking love it,” Derek says, finishing my sentence for me. I clench my hands, nails digging into the bottom of the coffee table. “I don’t know about you, but I think tying him to my headboard and forcing him to watch us fuck sounds very…enlightening.” My pulse picks up as I let the fantasy take me away. I can almost feel Derek inside me and hear Stiles struggling to free himself a few feet away. “You like that idea, baby?” he asks, even though I’m sure he already knows the answer; my heartbeat just shot up and I’m sweating.

“Yes,” I mutter, caught up in his gaze.

Derek smirks again. “Then we could untie him and go down on him together.” I honest to God forget to breathe. All I can think about is Derek grabbing Stiles’ cock with one hand and the back of my neck with the other, guiding me down on him. I can almost see the look on Derek’s face as he watches me take Stiles down my throat.

I am all heavy-lidded and wanting when, suddenly, someone knocks on the door. The spell breaks and reality settles on my shoulders. A glance at my phone tells me that it’s time for the pack meeting. I start to stand up, but Derek grabs my hips and holds me in place.

“Tell him, Lydia. Tell him and we’ll go from there,” he says strictly then he releases me, stands up, and makes his way over to the door.

I stand up and walk into the kitchen, searching for frozen pizzas. Sticking my head in the freezer, I breathe in the cool air. Fuck Derek Hale and his amazing kissing and his sexy body and his godddamn dirty talk. Who the fuck does he think he is?

What the hell am I supposed to do now?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...that got a little bit kinky. ;)  
> Comment and tell me what you thought of this chapter.  
> I'd love to hear from you.


	11. Chapter 11

I cook three pizzas, all the while hanging back in the kitchen. Everyone slowly shuffles in for the pack meeting. Allison and Isaac show up first, followed Scott and Kira few minutes later. Stiles arrives last, carrying a huge box of doughnuts. Derek glances over at me as he follows Stiles into the living room. I know what he wants me to do, but I’m not sure if I can do it.

I am getting the pizzas out of the oven when Allison walks into the kitchen. She gives me a reassuring smile as she grabs a stack of plates from the cabinet. I bite my lip as I cut up the pizzas. I want to tell her what just happened, but I can’t, not while I am surrounded by werewolves with super-hearing.

“Are you okay, Lydia? You look a little…” Allison trails off, eyes dropping to the floor. I reach up and tap my ear, a little gesture that Stiles thought up for situations like this. Basically, it’s our way of telling one another that the topic isn’t up for discussion with werewolves around. Allison nods, looking a little worried.

Grabbing the pans of pizza, I carry them into the living room and set them down on the coffee table. Allison hands everyone a plate and they dig in. I can feel Derek watching me as I grab a piece and sit down. Hesitantly, I lift my gaze. His eyes dig into me, razor-sharp and steady. My heart speeds up and he smirks, turning back to his food.

“Scott, would you mind texting Deaton?” I ask in between bites. “As much as I hate to admit it, we might need his…expertise.”

“Sure,” Scott says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. A few seconds pass and it vibrates. Scott glances down at it and then up at me. “He’ll be here in ten.” I nod in thanks, setting my empty plate down on the coffee table.

A few minutes pass, filled only with the sound of Kira talking about nothing in particular. She and Stiles both have an annoying habit of filling silence with meaningless jibber-jabber. But, unlike Kira, Stiles is quiet. He’s sitting alone, staring at the untouched plate of pizza in his lap. I hate seeing him like this, uncomfortable in his own skin. It’s wrong in every way.

Isaac clears his throat, gaining everyone’s attention. “Is anyone going to explain what the hell is going on here?” he asks agitatedly. The circles under his eyes and the grease on his hands are both very telling signs. He probably covered for Derek at the shop today. So really, it’s my fault that he’s exhausted.

“I’ll explain when Deaton gets here,” I say, glancing at the door.

 Isaac growls irritatedly, grabbing another slice of pizza. Allison lifts her hand, gingerly running her fingers through his hair. He exhales, leaning into her touch. The tension in his body slowly ebbs away under her ministrations. I am in constant awe of Allison. She’s an amazing hunter, an incredible friend, and she breaks down Isaac’s walls like they are made of paper.

Deaton shows up before Isaac has time to get worked up again. Scott lets the Emissary in and hands him some pizza. He sits down next to Scott, studying me like I am a butterfly under a microscope. I know that he means well, but I hate the intrigued way he looks at us.

“Is everything alright, Lydia? Scott didn’t specify as to what this meeting was about,” Deaton says, setting his uneaten pizza aside.

I take a deep breath, exhale, and then stand up. “I think something is coming for us…for you.” I quickly readjust my statement, remembering that I wasn’t included in the Whisperers’ threats.

“What are you talking about? Has this got something to do with what happened the other day?” Allison asks, referring to the day that I almost killed her with my scream. I haven’t heard the Whisperers since then and I’m not sure why. But I’ve come to realize, for a banshee, silence bodes worse than screams.

“Yes, I think it does. At first it was just a ringing in my ears, but then I started to have these dreams that…I’m not so sure were actually dreams. They talked to me in the dreams and then, once you all took away the ringing, I could hear their voices in my head.”

“And what were they saying?” Deaton asks, dark eyes gleaming intelligently.

“I couldn’t tell whether they were male or female, how old they were, or any other discerning characteristics. But, basically, they threatened to kill all of you. They said they were coming for you.” My hands start to shake as I remember their voices in my head, so loud they were splitting my scull. Stiles shifts, almost like he wants to stand up and comfort me, but he remains seated.

“Well, as I have said, not much is known about banshees. However, I do know that all banshees have a telekinetic connection to one another. It stems from their ability to project, but rather than placing your consciousness into someone else’s memory, you are projecting a thought to another member of your species,” Deaton says calmly, as if he were reading a menu or something.

I take an uneasy step back. If Deaton is right, then the Whisperers are actually other banshees. Which means a group of psychotic screamers are coming after my pack. The question is, why?

“Can she only hear other banshees?” Derek asks, muscles taut.

“As far as I know, banshees can only speak to other banshees. I’m not saying that’s who this is, but nothing else makes sense.” Deaton turns back to me. “Did they threaten you or just your pack?”

“No, they just said they would kill them…as in all of you.” My stomach turns, making me want to throw up. Oh God, is this my fault? Are these banshees coming after my family because of me? “The Nogitsune knew they were coming,” I say, remembering too late that Stiles is sitting a few feet away. He tenses and Derek grits his teeth, eyes turning red.

“The Nogitsune?” Scott asks, eyeing his best friend warily. Everyone here knows what that thing did to Stiles. It tore him open, played with him, and left him broken. Some wounds never heal…they just sit and bleed.

I run through what I am going to say very carefully. The last thing I want to do is hurt Stiles. “Don’t ask how I know, but the Nogitsune said that he wasn’t going to kill me. Instead, he was going to leave me for them them. Which means-”

“That they’re after you,” Allison says, finishing my sentence. The horror in her voice cuts me deep. So, this is my fault. My family is in danger because a bunch of banshees want me. “Why do they want Lydia?” Allison asks Deaton, who is studying me perplexedly.

“I’ve only ever met one other banshee, Lydia’s birth-mother. And she wasn’t exactly coherent, but I do know one thing. She was powerful,” Deaton says almost reverently. I clench my hands into tight fists, furious at being reminded that my real mom was a murderer. “And Lydia is twice as powerful as her mother.”

“So they want me because I am powerful?” I ask, voice frayed.

“I honestly don’t know how many banshee’s are left. Your species was nearly killed off during the Witch Trails in the 1600’s. Then, just when they started to show up again, the war between werewolves and vampires broke out. Banshees were hunted down and fought over like toys,” Deaton explains, using his ‘history-teacher’ voice.

I’ve read about the Wolf Wars. They happened during the Civil War and the casualties during said war were doubled because of them. What I didn’t know was that banshees were involved. But, I guess we would have to be. It is our purpose to scream for the souls of fallen supernaturals. Banshees probably flocked to the battlefields, screaming as the watched the carnage unfold.

“Why would they want me? I may be powerful, but I have no idea what the hell I’m doing,” I say tonelessly, annoyed with my own inability. Everyone else has found their place in this pack, but I am sill floundering. I don’t know what I am doing or why I am doing it.

“Your scream can kill people. Your mother said that no one, except those descended from her line, would ever possess said ability. Therefore, in a way, you are the only one of your kind,” Deaton says calmly.

I grit my teeth, wishing I could just break something. Out of all of the gifts my birth mother could have given me, she gave me her ability to kill people. That’s fucked up. “But I can only kill humans, right? Why would they want me if I can only kill humans?” I ask frantically.

“You can kill anything you want, Lydia. You just have to scream at the correct frequency. You are used to screaming at the human level, that’s why you have only hurt humans so far. But, you could just as easily raise the frequency and kill every werewolf in this room.” Derek growls, the wolf in him taking Deaton’s words as some sort of veiled threat.

“Fuck,” I say, turning away from everyone. It’s one thing for him to tell me I am powerful, but it’s another to hear him say I can kill anyone…anything I want. No wonder the Nogitsune called me brutal. Brilliant…beautiful…and brutal…perfect words to describe someone like me. An idea pops in my head and I twist around to face everyone. “I’ll leave. If I am gone they’ll follow me and won’t hurt any of you.”

“No!” Stiles says fiercely, taking me by surprise. It’s the first time he has talked tonight. Which is disconcerting because he usually never stops. He stands up and grabs my arms. “You aren’t going anywhere. I won’t let you.” Wind circles around us, ice-cold and thin. I look up into Stiles’ amber eyes and, just like that, rain starts to claw the window behind him. Lightning cuts across the skyline; closely followed by thunder so loud that it shakes the building.

“It’s not your decision,” I mutter, heart in my throat. Derek growls sharply, walking up to stand at Stiles’ back. His eyes are red, animalistic and predatory. And though he doesn’t say it, I know that he’d tie me to his refrigerator before he would let me leave. “I can go if I want to.” There’s fervor in my voice, but the truth is, I don’t want to leave. This pack is my family and the men in front of me are mine. Mine. I’ll leave, but only to protect them.

“You can go wherever you want, but just know that you’ll always have a wolf on your back,” Derek says ferociously. I shudder, reveling in how deeply he cares for me. He’d literally follow me to the ends of the earth.

“Lydia, don’t do this. Please don’t do this.” The agony is Stiles’ voice is all consuming. It takes everything out of me, shredding me until nothing is left but the beating of my heart. I love him and seeing him in pain is worse than feeling it myself. I hate that I am doing this to him, that I am the cause of this. “We can’t protect you out there!” Stiles says sharply as lightning splits the dark shy.

“If I may interject, I wouldn’t recommend you leaving, Lydia. You see, when a new lion takes over a group of lionesses, he will kill the cubs because they are not his. The same principle applies here. These banshees will kill your pack whether or not you are here, because this pack is your blood, so to speak,” Deaton says evenly, trying to calm us all down. I close my eyes, running through his words. He does make a valid point and it’s not like anyone here would actually let me leave. 

“Fine. I won’t leave,” I mutter and Stiles instantly releases me. The rain outside eases up, but doesn’t stop. Stiles clenches his eye shut, hands shaking at his sides. Derek drops his head, running his nose along the column of Stiles’ neck. It takes me a moment to realize that Derek is scenting him. Tentatively, I step forward, pressing myself up against Stiles. He wraps his arms around me, burying a hand in my hair. The gesture breaks my heart. He really thought he was going to lose me.

As Derek and I calm Stiles down, Kira entertains everyone by showing them a few new kitsune-related tricks she’s learned. I remind myself to thank her later for the distraction. She has no idea how much this means to me.

What was I thinking? Stiles has severe abandonment issues and I threw my leaving in his face without giving it a second thought. I may be powerful, but elementals are one of the most ancient species ever to walk the earth. Stiles could shatter each continent into a million little pieces. He could set the world on fire or raise the oceans and watch it drown. God knows what he might have done had I actually walked out that door.

Once the rain has died down to a light drizzle, I pull my head back and look up over Stiles’ shoulder. Derek’s eyes are still red, but at least Stiles isn’t shaking anymore. “Go take a run. Let your wolf out, “ I say to Derek. He glances down at Stiles and I nod reassuringly. “I’ll take care of him.” Derek nods and the stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Within a few seconds, a deep howl tears through the air.

Scott and Isaac react instantly, spines straightening and eyes turning yellow. “Just go,” Allison says. Both boys practically run out of the room, shedding their clothes as they go.

Reaching up, I take Stile’s face in my hands. When my fingers make contact he opens his eyes. “Go get in Derek’s bed. I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Promise?” he asks, breaking my fucking heart. Tears fill my eyes. He sounds like a little kid again, a little kid with a dead mom and a father who can’t bear to look at him.

“Yeah, I promise. Now go get in Derek’s bed,” I say, forcing a smile. I want to go up with him, but I have a few more questions. Stiles turns and makes his way upstairs. Wind dances though my hair, dissipating as Stiles disappears. I close my eyes, cursing myself for causing him pain. It seems like these days that’s all I ever do.

“That was amazing,” Allison says, pulling me out of my own head. I open my eyes and turn around to face her. She’s smiling warmly.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, voice cracked. Unshed tears are blurring my eyes, making it hard for me to see. Am I still that person, the girl who screws with people for fun?

“You disarmed both of them, an elemental and an alpha werewolf, in one minute. That isn’t an easy thing to do,” Allison says, eyes gleaming with pride. My brows furrow in confusion. All I did was react to their needs. Derek has been caging his wolf and he needed time to breathe. Stiles was feeling insecure and needed to feel safe.

I turn to look at Deaton, who is perusing one of Derek’s books. “Can I ask one last question?” I ask, brushing a tear from my cheek. Now isn’t the time for tears. I need to be strong. I need to protect my pack.  

“Of course, that’s what I am here for,” Deaton says with a smile.

I take deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You say I can kill anything I want, but… can I kill a banshee?” I hate that I might have to kill one of my own kind, but I will, I’ll kill anyone who tries to hurt my family.

Deaton remains quiet for a moment, contemplating. “I have no idea,” he says, voice calm and honest. “I don’t see why not, but you would have to reach an extremely high frequency. You are capable of it, but you have to stop fearing your abilities. They are a part of you, after all.” He stands up, gives us a parting nod, and then leaves.

Allison has just enough time to wrap her arms around me before I burst into tears. Everyone’s in danger and it’s my fault. My family could die because of what I am, because of what I can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyone got any thoughts or predictions? I'd love to hear them. Comments make my day! :)


	12. Chapter 12

I spend the next hour lying on the couch between Allison and Kira, telling them everything. I start at the beginning, with the ringing in my ears, and don’t stop until I’m done. They don’t say a word, never once interrupting me…that is until I tell them that Derek-fucking-Hale kissed me.

“He kiss-” I clamp my hand over Kira’s mouth, shutting her up.

“Yes, he kissed me. Now, keep it down! The last thing I need is Stiles hearing it from someone other than me,” I say, pulling my hand back. Kira giggles, giving me an apologetic smile.

“I hate to say I told you so, but…well…I did,” Allison says, smiling proudly. I roll my eyes, but I can’t argue because she’s right. When she brought up the idea of the three of us together I thought she was insane, but it makes perfect sense now. Forcing Stiles to choose between us would break him. The mere prospect of me leaving unhinged him and it took Derek and I both to settle him down.  

“How am I supposed to tell Stiles how I feel? I was a total bitch to him for years and now we are friends, but…” I trail off with a groan, falling back into Allison’s lap. She smiles down at me, running a hand through my hair.

“He fucking adores you, Liddy,” Allison says, making me smile.

“I don’t think it matters how you tell him. Scream it from the rooftops or…actually you may want to refrain from screaming in highly populated areas. Not that I think you would hurt anyone or anything like-”

“Thanks, Kira,” I say, cutting off her rambling. She blushes, playing with the hem of her ‘Attack on Titan’ miniskirt. “Well, I am gonna go check on him. Wish me luck.” I hop off the couch and start up the stairs.

“Good luck! See you at home,” Kira says with a cute little wave. I bite my lip, remembering that I don’t actually live here. Kira, Allison, and I share in an apartment in the middle of town. It isn’t very big, but it’s near the college and the art school that Kira attends. “Yeah, you live with us, remember?”

“Shut up,” I say, giggling. 

“Don’t accidentally kill Stiles. We kinda need him,” Allison says with a wink. I roll my eyes, watching them make their way out of Derek’s loft.

I walk up the stairs, kicking off my heels and shrugging off my cardigan. The door to Derek’s room is cracked open, allowing a single beam of light to cut through the darkness. Most bedrooms have a window, but not Derek’s. He likes it dark, warm, and quiet. Personally, I think it’s the wolf in him. 

Quietly, I push open the door and tiptoe inside. Closing the door behind me, I turn on the low-lights. The room is lit in a soft yellow glow that makes the dark furnishings look rich and beautiful. Though Derek’s style is very minimalist, he has great taste.

Stiles is curled up in the center of Derek’s California King. The massive evergreen comforter covers him almost entirely. He’s got his arms wrapped around one of the pillows, face buried in the material. The serenity on his face makes me wonder if the pillow smells like Derek.

I think about walking away. All I would have to do is turn around and leave; Derek has two guest bedrooms down the hall. I glance back at the door, jaw cocked to the side. Leaving is what I should do. It would keep Derek and Stiles safe. But, I can’t do it.

Before I have time to over-think it, I strip off my dress and bra. Warm air twists around me as I grab one of Derek’s t-shirts and slip it over my head. For a fraction of a second I think that Stiles might be awake, but he’s not. I guess his abilities are a constant, responding to him even when he is asleep. It’s almost like the room is breathing, air circling around and then easing back.

Aware that Derek sleeps on the left side, I cross over to the right. Stiles doesn’t stir as I carefully pull back the covers and slip in beneath them. Heart in my throat, I take him in slowly. He is naked except for a pair of pink and black boxer-briefs that say ‘AMERICAN CANDY’ on the elastic, right above his cock. I let out a laugh before I have time to think about it.

Stiles opens his eyes and looks over at me, brows furrowing in confusion. He blinks a few times, looking frustrated. “Lydia Martin is laying half-naked in bed with me. Clearly, my subconscious fucking hates me,” he says jadedly.

“You’re not dreaming,” I say, smirking.

“Whatever you say.” He rolls over onto his back, running a hand down his face. “There’s no fucking way the real Lydia Martin would wear that to bed, let alone sleep with me,” he says gesturing to the huge black t-shirt that I am wearing.

I roll my eyes, laughing. “How would you know what I wear to bed?” I ask wickedly. Stiles blushes furiously, swallowing.

“I just figured since you’re always so well dressed during the day…that you’d wear those cute little…” he trails off, wringing his hands awkwardly.

I decide to take advantage of the situation. “Cute little, what?” I scoot down in the bed, throwing one leg over Stiles. He chokes as I settle my butt down on his erection. I lean down, my hair cascading down next to his face. “Cute little nighties with ribbons and ruffles. Is that what you thought?” I ask, placing my hands on his chest. His heart is beating a million miles an hour and his skin is hot.

“Lydia,” he says, voice cracked. Air circles around me, nipping at my skin and playing with my curls.

I arch an eyebrow, smirking. “Still think you’re dreaming?” His eyes widen as he realizes that this isn’t happening in his head. I shift into a more comfortable position and his cock hardens in response. Groaning, he looks up at me.

“What the fuck are you playing at, Liddy?” he asks, more aroused than annoyed. I’m aware that this isn’t exactly the best way to tell him how I feel. In fact… it might be the worst. And I thought Stiles was the tactless one. “Seriously. If this is some sort of Banshee thing it’s…super fucked up.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “No. It’s nothing like that,” I say as I ease off of him. He sits up and turns to face me, running a hand through his hair. I scan his body noting a set of tattoos on his upper back, running down his spine. Before he has time to cover them up, I yank the comforter out of his hand and push his shoulder to the side. A small black triskelion sits on top of an equally sized black triquetra. I’ve read lore on both symbols.

Triskelions are Greek. They symbolize a trinity. The trinity can be religious. In Catholicism they symbolizes the Father, Son, and the Holy Sprit. They are often associated with father, mother, and child. To Derek, the triskelion symbolizes the dynamics of a werewolf pack: alpha, beta, and omega.

Triquetras are Celtic. They also symbolize a trinity. Interestingly, they are often associated with the triple Goddess. A set of three female figures who are all-seeing. These three women show up in throughout history, from Greek mythology to Indo-European theory, to Christianity and Hinduism. In Neopaganism, triquetras represent the maiden, the mother, and the crone. These three women characterize the female cycle, phases of the moon, and the three realms of earth, heaven, and hell. The symbol itself is inherently feminist.

“They aren’t what you think,” Stiles says as he watches me study the symbols. I clench my fingers into fists, trying to quell the urge to reach out and touch them.

“Really?” I crawl over to sit between his sprawled legs, looking deep into his amber eyes. “Because it looks like you got a tattoo for Derek…and a tattoo for me.” I keep my tone low and even, wanting nothing more than to kiss him until he can’t breathe.

“What makes you think the triquetra is for you?” he asks, arching his chin proudly. I shake my head in disbelief. He’s terrified about how I might react and I have no idea why. Honestly, what girl isn’t turned on by the idea of a boy getting a tattoo for her?

“I read just as much as you, Stiles. Banshees are essentially witches and triquetras are used in Wiccan practices as well as Neopaganism. It’s for me. I’m not wrong, am I?” I ask, smiling warmly.

Stiles exhales, twisting his hands anxiously. “You two are the most important people in my life. Scott’s my best friend and I care about Isaac, Allison, and Kira. But…it’s different with you and Derek.” He closes his mouth, grinding his teeth agitatedly.

“You’re not in love with them,” I say softly, catching his gaze. “You’re in love with us…with Derek and I.” Stiles pulls his legs up to his chest, an instinctual gesture of vulnerability and self-preservation. He tears his gaze away, biting his lips.

“I’m so sorry, Lydia. I’ve been in love with you since I was in third grade and I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t. You don’t fucking owe me anything and that’s not why I got the tattoo. It’s just because you are important to me. So fucking important.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out with a huff. “I don’t understand why I can’t change the way I feel about you. I’ve tried…God, have I tried.”

“Maybe you should stop.” The words slip out of my mouth before I have time to think them through. Stiles looks up, eyes tearing into me. The air in the room gets instantly denser, warmer. My heart seizes, making it hard to breathe.

“What?” Stiles asks, brows furrowed.

I reach up, taking his face in my hands. He closes his eyes, relishing in my touch. “Stop trying not to love me. Stop trying to change the way you feel. I love that you got a tattoo for me. I love your stupid t-shirts and your naughty underwear. I love how much you love Derek.” He opens his eyes, reaching up to grab my wrists.

“But you don’t love me,” he says as he pulls my hands down and releases them. Irritated, I place them on his chest and push him back against the giant headboard. Why does he think he can’t be loved?

“Ask me,” I say sharply. “Ask me what you’ve been dying to ask me since we were in third grade. Ask me if I am in love with you!”

Stiles swallows, eyes boring into me. The sound of rain hammering the roof echoes around us as wind playfully dances across the comforter. He remains silent for an agonizing moment, then, before I can react, he fists a hand in my hair and kisses me. I close my eyes and melt into him. He pushes me down onto the bed, careful not to put all of his weight on me. I smile against his lips. Chivalry runs deep in him, engrained on his bones.

His tongue twists artfully around mine, gentle and teasing. I gasp as his cock rubs against me. Heat floods through me as he tilts my head back, deepening the kiss. I arch my back, deliberately pressing my nipples against his chest. He pulls back for a fraction of a second before dropping down to my neck.

God, he smells amazing. It’s like a mixture of rain and damp earth. I breathe it in as he trails kisses down the column of my neck. He licks my pulse and I dig my nails into his back, eyeing his tattoos.

He clutches my hip with the hand that’s not taking his weight, trailing his fingers lightly across my stomach. I gasp, shuddering. He lifts his head and recaptures my lips, kissing me like it’s the last think he’ll ever do. I reach up to take his face in my hands, burying my fingers deep in his messy hair.

Kissing Stiles is nothing like kissing Derek. With Derek it’s primal and raw. But with Stiles it’s magic. One I feel in my bones, and the other in my soul. One is lust and the other is love.

Stiles pulls back, breathless. His pupils are blown, wide and wanting. He grits his teeth, a tic forming in his jaw. “Are you in love with me?” he ask, vulnerability like an open wound.

“Yes.” I say earnestly. “According to Allison, I have been since last year.” It surprises me how easy it is to admit. It makes me want to say it again. I want to tell him how much I love him, over and over again, until it kills me.

He looks down at me, brows furrowed in disbelief. My guess is that he kissed me because he thought this was all an act. He was trying to catch me in a lie, not force me to tell the truth. “Then say it. Say the words I’ve always wanted to hear you say.” The reverence in his voice cuts me deep. He doesn’t think I’ll do it. He thinks I’ll shrug him off or walk away or worse, laugh in his face. No part of him thinks he is deserving of love.

I look up into his eyes, holding him in place with my gaze. “I love you.” He glowers at me, eyes narrowed with skepticism. “Don’t believe me?” I ask, one eyebrow arched.

“Why should I?” His tone is defensive, unforgiving. Where, seconds ago, his body was warm and inviting, now it’s the opposite. His muscles are taut, coiled like those of a threatened snake. It’s like he expects me to insult him. And I don’t blame him after the way I treated him in the past.

I take his hand and place it over my rapidly-beating heart. “You don’t need to be werewolf to know whether or not I’m lying. And I’m not,” I say fiercely. “I love you. I think I have since the Nogitsune. But I didn’t realize it until today. And I’m sorry it took me so long to figure it out.” The sincerity in my voice startles me. I sound nothing like the person I used to be. I sound human.

Stiles pulls his hand back, clenching it into a tight fist. Anxiety twists in my stomach as his chest starts to heave. I back up on the bed, tying to give him room. He runs his shaking hands down his face, struggling to breathe. “You don’t love me. No one loves me. Everyone…leaves…me…”

“Stiles, it’s okay,” I whisper. “You’re okay. I’m not gonna leave you.”

“I can’t….I can’t…” he gasps, clawing at his throat.

I take his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. I run through everything that I have ever read about panic attacks. If I kissed him he might hold his breath. That has been proven to work. But, then again, kissing him might make it worse. The only other tactic I’ve read about is surprise. Sometimes if you say something they don’t expect it will jolt them out of it.

“I totally ship Spiderman and Deadpool,” I say, blushing. Stiles stops breathing and cocks his head to the side, eyeing me curiously. I smile, watching as he takes three even breaths, letting them out slowly.

“How’d you do that?” he asks, sitting back against the headboard.

“I read that you can jolt someone out of a panic attack by saying something they wouldn’t expect,” I say, pursing my lips.

Stiles graces me with a soft, appreciative smile. “You’re brilliant.”

“So I’ve been told,” I mutter, aware that the Nogitsune used that word to describe me. It sounds like a good thing, being smart, but maybe it’s not. There’s a cult of banshees after me and my wits won’t save me from them. I can’t turn into a giant wolf like Derek or cut off someone’s air supply like Stiles. I may be brilliant, but I am also useless. “Are you okay?”

Stiles fiddles with his fingers nervously. “I don’t know. You just told me that you’re in love with me,” he says flatly. I worry my bottom lip, unsure of how best to reassure him. “Wait, do you really ship Spideypool?” he asks with a hesitant grin.

“Oh, totally. I have a serious weakness for the whole ‘nerd falling in love with a damaged soldier’ trope. I guess that’s why you and-”

I break off as a horrible sensation fills my body. It starts in the center of my body and works its way outward, a pain that is ice-cold and deep. It feels like my body is being sliced apart at an atomic level. The very fabric of reality is unraveling, choking me.

I throw my head back and scream. It feels like the sound is clawing its way out of my throat, leaving me bloody. It slices through the air, echoing outward, and taking a piece of me with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me a while to update!  
> So, what did you think? I adore writing fluff. Hopefully, this chapter rotted the teeth clean out of your mouths. :)


	13. Chapter 13

_I feel empty, utterly empty, like someone carved out my insides with a spoon. My ribcage holds nothing but dry air. The steady drumbeat of life that once flowed through me is now silent. I am a gaping chasm; my bones are but a shell. I am nothing. I am death._

_A man walks up to me, confusion marring his handsome face. I note the blood running out of his ears, trailing slowly down his neck. He studies me, brows furrowed. “Lydia, is that you?” he asks. I don’t respond, but my silence doesn’t upset him. He is eerily calm. “Is this what I think it is?”_

_I take a step toward him and hold out my hand palm-up. He tentatively reaches out to touch me. The second his skin makes contact with mine the emptiness inside of me disappears. I am filled with memories, emotions, visions of a life well lived._

_I see his devotion, his hatred, his kindness, every decision he ever made, and the choices that lead him here. I study the best and the worst of him, weighing them against one another. Like any other, he could be cruel and selfish, but his compassion ran true._

_Decision made, I pull my hand back. He blinks rapidly, chest heaving. “I have seen your life. I have witnessed the wickedness in your heart and the kindness that far surpassed it. You died loyal to your pack.” I reach up to take his face in my hands, but he steps back before I can touch him._

_“Lydia, I don’t know if you’re in there, or even if you will remember this, but I have to tell you something.” He looks deep into my eyes, as if searching for something. “It’s about your mother. She-” I place my hands on his face and his words, meaningless to me, die in his mouth._

_“I have made my decision. I shall give you absolution.” I look deep into his eyes, bringing forth his soul. “Do you accept?” My voice rings out, powerful and absolute._

_“Yes,” he says, nodding. And with that, he disappears. His soul cuts through me, taking every memory that he gave, every emotion that he ever felt. I will his soul upward and am, once again, empty._

Gasping, I bolt out of Stiles’ arms and make it halfway to the bathroom before I throw up. Blood sprays out of my mouth, pooling at my feet as I bend over, choking and sputtering. It feels like there is something foreign inside of me, something that needs to be purged.

Stiles rushes over to me and falls to his knees, slipping in the mess. “Fuck!” he yells, lifting his hands to look at the blood on his palms. It runs down his wrists, paths shifting as he starts to shake. “I’m calling an ambulance.” He runs back into Derek’s room and grabs his phone, returning to me.

I open my mouth to tell him that the last thing I need is a doctor, but all that comes out is more blood. Frantic, I knock the phone out of his hand. It hits the floor and he automatically scrambles for it. “No!” I say sharply, fisting a hand in his shirt.

“You’re throwing up blood, Lydia! I need to get you to a hospital.” The devotion in his voice coils itself around my heart, filling my body with warmth. He loves me so much. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose you,” he says forcefully.

“Banshee-” I choke, blood spraying out of my mouth. Stiles stops reaching for his phone and turns to look at me, brows furrowed.

“This is a banshee thing?” he asks as he pulls my hair away from my face. I nod, stomach heaving. I’m not sure what’s happening, or why, but it has to have something to do with me being a banshee. Every fucked up thing that has happened over the past few months was because of what I am. “It’s okay. I’ve got you,” he says softly, tucking an arm around my waist. I lean into him, relishing in the cool air that twists around us.

The blood pouring out of my mouth tastes vile. Unlike fresh blood, it’s almost black and is just staring to coagulate. I am covered in it by the time it eases up, giving me a chance to breathe. Stiles tucks me up against him, holding me close as I shake uncontrollably.

“Are you alright?” he asks as I struggle to my feet, forced to walk my some unknown force. The abnormality inside of me is gone, purged away, but something else has taken its place. I am overwhelmed with a sensation somewhere between claustrophobia and deja vu. It pushes me down the stairs and into the elevator.

It’s dark outside, but the moon is full; it’s light illuminates the darkness. I can see everything clearly, and for that I am thankful. Unlike the werewolves, Stiles and I don’t have night vision.

Stiles meets me in the parking lot, dressed in a pair of jeans and holding a thick quit. He hands it to me and I wrap it around myself, thankful for the warmth.  Car keys in hand, Stiles ushers me into his Jeep and starts her up. “Where to?” he asks, clenching the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles look razor-sharp. He knows that I have a tendency to show up at crime scenes, locating corpses like a grim reaper.

But, where before I simply happened upon a corpse, this time I’m aware of what I am doing. It’s not an accident or a psychic premonition; this is me pinpointing a body and actively hunting it down. There is a part of me that hates this, that hates what I am, but it is overridden by instinct.  

“He’s in the woods on the outside of the preserve, near the twenty-second mile marker sign,” I say tonelessly as dread wells up inside of me. How the fuck do I know that the dead person is a man? Oh God, what if it’s Derek? Tears well up in my eyes as I search for a face, but I don’t see anything. I can feel him, the dead man, but I can’t see him.

“He?” Stiles asks as kicks up the speed. He glances over at me, amber eyes wide. “Is it Derek?” I don’t answer, but my silence only upsets him more. Rain starts to come down in sheets, hammering the windshield. “Scott, is it Scott?” He’s breathing hard, seconds away from another panic attack. If he has one while he’s driving he could kill us both.

“I don’t know who it is, Stiles. But you need to calm down. Just listen to my voice and focus on the road. Everything is going to be alright. Just breathe,” I say mellifluously, keeping my tone slow and even. Stiles takes deep breaths, forcing oxygen into his lungs.

“Keep talking to me, “ he says frantically, clenching the steering wheel like a lifeline. The rain outside eases up, but only a little.

“It’s gonna be okay. Just stay with me, Stiles. I need you to stay with me. Derek and Scott are fine. I am sure that it’s just some random supernatural. We probably didn’t even know him. There’s no reason to-”

“You passed out and then started to throw up blood, Lydia! I have every reason! If it’s Derek…” his chest starts to heave and he instinctively reaches up to grab his neck, letting go of the steering wheel. I shoot forward, grabbing the wheel. Carefully, I ease us of the road, eternally grateful that Stiles took his foot off the gas rather than punching it.

Killing the engine, I twist around to face him. He’s losing it, clawing at his neck as he struggles to breath. His skin pales as the rain outside turns to sleet. It covers the car, cloaking us in darkness. I grab hold of his hands, prying them away as he starts to draw blood.

“If it is Derek, we can’t leave him out there…alone,” my voice cracks as I imagine a black wolf, lying on the ground as the heavens fall. My throat starts to ache as struggle to hold back my tears. I need to be strong. Stiles needs me to be strong. “Stiles, look at me,” I say sharply, drawing from the throbbing pit that is forming in my stomach.

When he doesn’t move I reach over, open his door, and shove him out of the car. The ice-cold rain does exactly what I hoped it would do, shocking him back into reality. He turns onto his stomach and straightens his arms, breathing raggedly as rainwater runs down the planes of his face. I get out of the car and walk over to him, tightening the quilt around my shoulders.

“I’m so sorry…” he says as I help him to his feet.

“It’s okay. You love him,” I mutter, watching the storm clouds above us lighten. The sleet turns to rain, a steady downpour that speaks to Stiles’ emotional state. Glancing back at him, I realize that he must have taken my words the wrong way. He looks destroyed, like I just stuck a kitchen knife between two of his ribs.

“You think I love him?” he asks, voice raw. He’s terrified that I am going to use his love for Derek against him…that I am going to use it as an excuse to leave him.

“No, I know that you love him.” I start off towards the body, aware that it’s only thirty or so yards away. Stiles rushes up to me, swallowing guiltily as he brushes wet hair out of his eyes.

“How could you know that?” he asks, teeth clenched.

I scoff, brows furrowed in indignation. “You are my best friend. I know you and I know what it looks like when you love someone. You look at him like you look at me.” He steps in front of me and takes my face in his hands, brushing back my bloodstained hair. His exhales, shaking his head at me pleadingly. I told him I loved him less than an hour ago and he already thinks I’m going to abandon him. Talk about trust issues…

“That’s not fair. Was I supposed to just wait around for you, Lydia? You never gave me any indication that you had any romantic fe-”

“Stiles, I love you and I’m not about to dictate who you love.” I reach up and grab his wrists, brushing my thumbs up and down his pulse in an effort to comfort him. His brows pull together, eyes narrowed in confusion and disbelief.

He blinks a few times, mouth open ever so slightly. “I am so confused. You tell me you love me, then you kiss me, and now you’re telling me that you’re okay with Derek and I. Are you saying you don’t want to be with me or…” he trails off, looking terribly vulnerably.

I reach up and brush my fingers down his cheek, loving the way that he closes his eyes, savoring my touch. “I do want to be with you. Of course I want to be with you.” He opens his eyes, looking unconvinced. My stomach clenches painfully, regret festering there. God, I should’ve worn a t-shirt that said ‘Self-Esteem Killer’ in high school. I did a serious number on Stiles and he was far from the only one. “Look, we can talk about this later. When there isn’t a corpse twenty feet away from us,” I say gesturing over his shoulder.

It is close enough that I can see who it is. My heart jolts, taking me by surprise. I wasn’t particularly fond of him, but he was still part of the pack. He gave us answers when we were running blind. “Is it Derek?” Stiles ask, voice quivering.

“No. It’s Deaton,” I mutter, eyeing his body. Stiles gasps, twisting around to face the emissary. We walk up to him hesitantly, Stiles taking the lead. Wind circles around us, bitter and thin; it’s hard to breath.

Deaton is lying face-up on the ground. His eyes are open, steady and unblinking. I reach down to close them, turning his head to look at the dried blood running out of his ears. The truth hits me hard and fast, like a bullet to the heart. Standing up, I take four quick steps back, one hand clamped loosely over my mouth. Banshees did this…the same banshees that are after me. They killed him because he was a member of my pack and it’s only a matter of time before they go after another. Next time it could be Stiles, or Allison, or Derek, or…

 My heart seizes, stealing the breath from my lungs. “This is my fault. I got him killed!” I say hysterically. Turning, I take a few steps towards the Jeep, intending to get as far away from Beacon Hills as possible. I can’t stay here. If I do, everyone I love is going to die. “I…I killed him…” I say, tears streaming down my face.

Stiles grabs me from behind, lifting me up and tucking me against his chest. “This wasn’t your fault,” he says as I struggle to free myself. I need to get out of here. I need to keep them safe. “You didn’t do this!” He’s absolutely sure that this isn’t my fault, but I’m not. The banshees warned me and I didn’t listen to them. I basically signed Deaton’s death certificate.

“Let me go, Stiles!” I scream, thrashing against his hold.

“No! I’m not letting you do this! You can’t just run away,” he says furiously, glaring down at me. He knows what I am about to do. He knows it like the beating of his own heart. We have always been two sides of the same coin, partners in crime. “Please, Liddy.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. Then, before he can talk me out of it, I open my mouth and scream. Focusing on Stiles and the elemental blood in his veins, I meticulously tone the pitch of my scream. It’s so high that even a werewolf wouldn’t be able to hear it. Stiles drops me, clamping his hands over his ears. Rain thrashes against my skin, patterning it with tiny welts. In seconds, he passes out and the rain stops. I clamp my mouth shut, focusing the steady rise and fall of his chest.

I dig Stiles' phone out of his pocket, dialing Derek’s number with shaking hands. Putting the phone up to my ear, I wait. He picks up on the second ring, breathing hard. “Lydia! Are you and Stiles okay?” he asks, concern deepening his voice. The wolf in him is rearing its head, itching for a fight. Derek can sense danger and the instinct to protect his pack is absolute.

“Deaton’s dead. We’re on the outside of the preserve, fifteen feet from mile marker twenty-two,” I say, voice utterly monotone. Numbness floods through me as I force myself to focus on what needs to be done. I can’t afford to be emotional right now. My pack needs me.

“Fuck!” Derek growls. “We heard you scream. I thought maybe…” he trails off, unable to even say the words. God, he loves Stiles just as much as I do. He would die for him. It’s nice to know that Stiles will always have him, the last of the Hale Werewolves, to protect him. Derek will keep him safe.

“Stiles is fine. He passed out when he saw the body, but he’s okay,” I say quickly, eyeing Deaton’s body. Guilt and self-loathing gnaw at my insides. If I don’t leave, everyone I care about will end up just like him. They’ll die and their deaths will be on my hands.

“Stay where you are, baby. We’ll be there in ten minutes,” Derek says calmly. I drink in his reassuring voice. He is, and will forever be, our fixed point. When the rest of us are thrashing about, Derek is steady. When we are flying blind, he guides us through the darkness. And fuck if I don’t love the fact that he calls me baby. “Do you want me to stay on the phone with you?” he asks over the sound of an engine starting.

“No, I’ll be okay.” I hang up the phone and stick it back into Stiles’ pocket. Not wanting him to get cold, I shrug the quit off my shoulders and drape it over him. My hand shakes as I brush my fingers down his face. “I love you, Stiles Stilinski. I love you more than Coco Puffs and Tove Lo and Vogue and ‘The Originals’ and Chanel lipstick…and you know how much I love those things. So…just don’t forget that.” I turn and run back to his Jeep, tears burning my cheeks.

Staring the engine, I turn the headlights and veer onto the road. I’m absolutely sure that Allison and Kira are with the rest of the pack, so I make my way back to our apartment. As quickly as possible, I throw some clothes, cash, and a pair of flip-flops into a duffle bag. Tossing my phone onto my bed, I step into my favorite Louboutin pumps. Irrational, yes, but just because I’m running for my life, doesn’t mean I can’t do it in style. I grab the keys to my Prius, leaving Stiles’ keys on the kitchen counter.

 I am five minutes out of town when a deep howl rips through the air. It’s mournful and angry. Fresh tears brim in my ears as I punch the gas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was hard to write, but it was worth it. I'm love the way that it ended up. Comment, I'd love to hear from you. Anyone got any predictions?


	14. Chapter 14

I drive through Nevada and Utah, stopping only to catch a few hours of sleep on the side of the road. I quickly learn that sleeping in my car is as uncomfortable as it sounds. I’m exhausted, half-naked, and covered in dried blood. All I want to do is turn around and go home, but I can’t.

As I pass over the border and cross into Colorado, I stare longingly at a motel to my left. Shaking my head, I turn back to the road. I’ll stop tonight; two states between us should be enough. Derek may be an expert tracker, but no werewolf can track a vehicle. As long as he doesn’t catch my scent, he won’t be able to find me. It’s Stiles that I really have to worry about. I’m sure that he’s already hacked into his father’s computer and put out an APB on me. Which means, every cop in the United States and Canada is looking for a redhead in a blue Prius.

Deaton’s death eats at me as I glare at the road, tears welling up in my eyes. He died because he was a part of my pack. He died for helping me. God forbid what those banshees might have done to the rest of my pack, had I stayed. My only hope is that they are following me. I’ll die willingly if it means my family gets to live.

When the sun finally sets, I end up in a town called Blackwater. It’s small and secluded, nestled deep in the Rocky Mountains that slice through Colorado. I pull my car into a cute little bed and breakfast called Blackwater Inn. Opening the car door, I breathe in the fresh mountain air, closing my eyes. My stomach tightens as I am reminded of Stiles. The air here smells like him, all wisdom and innocence, sharp and soft…a mess of contradictions.

My legs, half dead from lack of use, shake as I get out of the car. Grabbing my bag, I walk into the reception area, painfully aware that I probably look like I just walked off the set of ‘Scream 15’ or ‘Paranormal Activity: Who Gives a Fuck Edition.’

“Excuse me,” I say tentatively, voice cracking. The old woman at the front desk startles, looking up from her knitting. Her eyes widen as she looks me over, from top to bottom.

“Oh my, are you alright, darling?” she asks. I swallow, doing my best to hold back my tears. I’m not all right, I am as far from fine as a person could be. I just abandoned my family, a cult of murdering banshees is hunting me down, and I smell like a boy’s locker room. “Is that…blood?” she asks, voice rising as she starts to get scared.

Thinking fast, I step up to the counter and flash her my best smile. “No! Well, at least not real blood. I’m glad you thought it was though, that means the makeup artists are doing their job,” I say rapidly, using my ‘I may be an idiot, but at least I’m pretty’ voice. “I’m an actress. We’re shooting a TV show up in the mountains. Well I’m not shooting, but anyways…it’s about this group of serial killers who eat-”

“That’s lovely, darling, Can I get you a room?” the woman asks, sounding a bit annoyed. I nod, flashing her a smile; looks like I haven’t lost my touch. She stands up and grabs a key off of the wall behind her. “It’s fifty dollars a night. The maid will be around in the morning.”

I take the key from her, noting the number twelve that adorns it, and hand over enough money for a week. “Thanks! Have a good one!” I force another smile and then walk out of the reception area, counting off doors until I locate the one I am looking for. Slipping the key into the lock, I open the door and slam it closed behind me.

The room isn’t anything special, but at least it’s not dirty. The comforter is an ungodly shade of pink and there’s an ugly painting of two horses hanging on the wall above the bed. Whoever decorated this place needs to find a new occupation.

Tossing my bag onto the bed, I kick off my heels, strip off Derek’s shirt, and drop my panties. It takes a minute for the shower to get hot, but once I am underneath the spray my agitation melts away. Tipping my head back, I sigh. Flakes of blood mix with water, turning it pink, before it circles the drain and disappears.

Once I am clean, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself. Deaton’s eyes, empty and unmoving, consume me as I pull back the comforter and curl up on the bed. I close my eyes and darkness slides over my mind, thick and slow like a drug.

 

_I am sitting on a swing in an abandoned park. The sun is setting at my back, filling my body with quiet warmth. I close my eyes, hands wrapped tight around the chains at my sides. Wind twists around me, bringing tears to my eyes. I am alone and I will be for the rest of my life. This is how it has to be._

_“She’s quite beautiful, Diana,” a woman says plainly. I open my eyes and lift my gaze, jaw clenched tight. Fear cuts through me as I look around; I am surrounded by women in red dresses. The wind curls around them, making them look ethereal and transcendent._

_“So like her mother,” a woman to my left says. She’s around my age with shoulder-length blond hair and a slight figure. Her blue eyes are unnerving; she has what Stiles calls ‘the crazy eyes.’ She smiles wryly and glances over to the woman in front of me. I follow her gaze, holding my breath._

_The woman standing before me is fucking beautiful. She’s in her forties, with a mess of curly red hair that tumbles down her back. Her eyes, firmly fixed on me, are a deep brown, the color of cherry wood. Her features are sharp and angular, giving her a dangerous edge. I instantly know that she is their leader; she has the aura of an alpha, dominant and powerful._

_“Who the fuck are you?” I demand irately, standing up. I ask, even though I know who they are. It’s pretty obvious. A bunch of beautiful women in blood-red dresses, who else would they be? Banshees. A cult of psychotic, murdering banshees._

_The redhead in front of me takes a step toward me, a smile curling on her lips. “She may have gotten my looks, but unfortunately she seems to have inherited her father’s mouth,” she says slyly, her movements slow and deliberate, reminding me of a cat. It takes me a moment to process what she just said. When it dawns on me I take a step back, the breath evading my lungs. But…my birth mother is dead. Isn’t she? Deaton said she was dead._

_“But…you’re supposed to be dead!” I hiss, fists clenched at my sides. She smiles, tying my stomach in knots. There’s something off about her, something wild and unhinged. Deaton said that she killed people, good people, and that’s why she was locked up. I have no doubt that that is the truth. She absolutely looks capable of murder._

_“Did Deaton tell you that?” she asks, hatred flashing in her dark eyes. I exhale shakily, hating how much she scares me. When I don’t answer she continues, “That’s why I killed him first. He took my baby from me and then he told you that I was dead!” The revulsion in her voice is razor-sharp and as cold as ice. She truly blames Deaton for my being removed from her custody._

_I take a fearless step towards her, arching my neck proudly. She can do whatever she wants to me, but I won’t let her hurt my pack. “It wasn’t Deaton’s fault! You are the one who killed people! He took me away from a murdered and gave me to someone who deserved to be a mother! You never-“ She slaps me, knocking my head to the side. My face burns, blood welling where she spit my lip._

_She takes my jaw in her hand and forces me to look at her. “I am your mother! I brought you into this world! You are mine!” she screams, dark eyes burning with rage. I can feel her power, it’s pulsing just under her skin. She holds herself like a goddamn gangster, all intimidation and coiled fury._

_I spit blood onto the ground, tonguing my bleeding lip. I meet her gaze, letting her know that I won’t be intimidated. I’ve gone toe-to-toe with a Nogitsune and this bitch has got nothing on him. “I was raised with wolves, bitch, you don’t scare me,” I say viciously._

_She slides her hand down to cup the nape of my neck, sharp nails digging into my skin. I gasp in pain, droplets of blood running down my spine. “Clearly! Your have the temper of a rabid dog. Had I raised you, you would be far better behaved!” She runs her thumbnail down the side of my neck, slicing me open. Were Derek here to hear her call werewolves ‘dogs’ he would rip her head off. It is a great insult among wolves._

_Furious, I reach up, taking hold of her wrist. “If you are going to kill me, just get it over with. I’m fucking sick of this crap foreplay!” I yell, digging my nails into the underside of her wrist. I’m not one for games and it’s clear to me that she just adores playing with her food._

_She laughs, the noise, soft and bell-like, sets my teeth on edge. “You are a crude little thing, aren’t you?” She looks around at her fellow banshees, smiling wickedly. I shudder as she circles me, running her fingers through my hair. “I don’t know where you got the impression I’m going to kill you. That’s the last thing I want. You are my legacy, the most powerful banshee ever born.” She runs a finger down my face, stroking me like I am a pretty doll._

_“What do you want with me?” I ask, voice clipped with annoyance._

_“I want my daughter back. I want you to join us.” She gestures to the circle of banshees. I count twelve, but there could be more in the trees. I may be powerful, but there are too many for me to take. “I will teach you, help you hone your abilities and you’ll fight for us in the war.”_

_“War?” I ask, rolling my eyes. God, she sounds completely insane._

_Stepping away from me, she spreads her arms out like some sort of prophet. “We are going to reclaim this world from the werewolves and the vampires. We will eradicate them and rule over the humans like gods!” The ardor in her voice is more than a little disconcerting. She truly believes that she is going to change the world, that she and these banshees will rule._

_I let out an exaggerated laugh. “You’re delusional! No wonder they had you locked up in a loony bin.” She closes the distance between us, fists a hand in my hair, and wrenches my head back._

_“Don’t sass me, you little bitch! I could eradicate your pack with one scream. I’ll kill them, just like I killed Deaton,” she says viciously. I glare into her eyes, giving nothing away. If she senses any weakness, she’ll use it._

_“Do it. Like I fucking care. Killing them won’t get you any closer to me.” I smirk arrogantly, praying she takes my bluff. If she thinks I don’t care about them then she won’t see them as a threat or use them as leverage. “You can look all you want, but you won’t find me.”_

_She tightens her hold, pulling my hair. “You can’t hide from me indefinitely. I will find you and when I do, I’ll mold you into the perfect weapon,” she says reverently, breath brushing across my face._

_“Sure you will,” I hiss, shoving her away from me. She stumbles backward, fury filling her eyes. She comes at me like a rabid animal, slashing cheek open with her nails. I whip around to face her, anger cutting through my veins. I am going to scream so loud it melts her crazy-brain; no one threatens my pack._

_“Diana,” the blond says, drawing my mother’s attention. “She’s fighting the connection. I’m not sure how much longer we can hold it.”_

_My mother nods and then turns back to me. “Tell me where you are, Lydia. Tell me or I’ll kill all of them!” her voice breaks, revealing just how badly she wants to get her hands on me. She’s desperate. She needs another banshee capable of killing humans and, other than herself, only I posses that ability._

_“Kill whoever the fuck you want. I hired them to protect me, nothing more. When they proved…inadequate…I moved on. If you want to waste your time on them, that’s your loss,” I say, drawing from my ‘queen bitch’ high school days. I’ve learned that if you act like you’re the shit people tend to believe you._

_She exhales, taking a step away from me. “You could be a queen, living in a palace and worshipped by all,” she says smoothly, painting a pretty picture. “You are royalty and you deserve to be treated as such. Just tell me where you are.”_

_“Interesting tactic…playing to my inner eight-year-old. You’re a princess, Lydia! Mommy is gonna buy you a pretty white pony!” I say with a sarcastic laugh. She slaps me again, deepening the cut on my lip. “Fuck off, bitch!” I yell, twisting around to spit blood on her dress._

_“Why you little-” She pounces, knocking me to the ground. I open my mouth to scream, but she cuts me off by clamping her hands around my neck. Her nails cut into my skin as she squeezes, cutting off my air supply. I grab her wrists, trying to pry her loose, but my strength is waning. She leans down to whisper in my ear. “I will find you and when I do, you will join us!”_

_I release her wrists and flip her off with both hands, a final act of rebellion. If I am going to die, at least it will be with my dignity intact. She tightens her hold, dark eyes gleaming manically. God, she’s fucking crazy. I struggle to breathe, black spots forming in front of my eyes._

_“Diana, she’s…”_

 

I jolt upright, gasping for breath. Reaching up to hold my neck protectively, I struggle to fill my empty lungs. My chest burns and I turn over onto my stomach, coughing painfully. God, it hurts.

I shake as I recall the dream that I know wasn’t just a dream. My birth mother, Diana, is a goddamn terrorist and she wants to use me as like a nuclear bomb. Tears fill my eyes as I remember telling her to kill my pack, telling her that I didn’t care about them. God, what if she didn’t believe me? What if she kills them just to spite me?

My first instinct is to call Derek, to warn him, but I quell it. My leaving will keep them safe. I have to trust that. Diana has no reason to kill them. She wants me, badly. Staying to kill my pack would just be a waste of time, time that she could be using to locate me.

Exhaling, I reach over to the nightstand and turn on the TV. A newscast pops up featuring a middle-aged man standing before a map of the States. “The massive low pressure unit that formed over California three days ago has yet to let up. Most of the state is still receiving heavy rainfall. Said rainfall is causing severe flooding in several areas.” He gestures to different parts of California. “Residents have been informed to stay indoors and wait out the storm.” Tears spill down my cheeks as it dawns on me that the storm is my doing. I left and Stiles is losing it.

The newscast switches over to a woman standing underneath a huge yellow umbrella, sharp wind whipping at her dark hair. “I am here in Beacon Hills, California, where the storm has hit the hardest. The town has been without power for thirty-seven hours after lightening took out multiple transformers. The Sherriff has assured us that all of the town’s residents are safe and accounted for, but we have no way of knowing when this storm might end. Back to you, John,” she says and the picture reverts back to the meteorologist.

I turn off the TV and throw the remote onto the floor, angrily brushing the tears from my eyes. Stiles is in pain and it’s my fault. I abandoned the man I love and now, in his grief, he’s tearing California apart. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face in them, sobs racking my body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update! So...what did you guys think of the premiere? I liked it, but I miss Derek and it pisses me off how no one is listening to Stiles. I don't care how adorable Theo is, when Stiles has a hunch you listen to it! Ugh! Anyways, comment and tell me what you thought of this chapter. :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to romanticoptimist1213 who suggested I write a chapter from Derek's POV. Here you go, darling!

\- Derek -

 

“Any sign of her?” Sherriff Stilinski asks, running his hands down his face. He’s exhausted, dark circles ringing his blood-shot eyes. The pungent smell of anxiety wafts off of him in thick waves. His son is in pain and there’s nothing he can do about it. Helplessness is eating away at him.

I shift back to human form and stand up, icy water droplets running down my body. My muscles fucking ache, hands and feet torn and bloody. I’ve been running for three days, desperately searching for any sign of Lydia. Unfortunately, the rain has destroyed all traces of her scent. She’s long gone and I’ve run out of leads.

I walk out of the elevator and into my loft, leaving bloody footprints on the hardwood. John follows me in, glancing around with the practiced eye of a cop. I don’t know what Stiles has told him, but he’s clearly aware that we are in danger. “You’re exhausted, John. You should get some sleep,” I say, gesturing to my couch.

His scent shifts, becoming sharper, angrier. “Dammit, Derek! You showed up on my doorstep with Deaton’s body in your trunk and my son sobbing in your arm. Then you handed him to me, said something about Lydia, and disappeared for three days. You are aware that Stiles has abandonment issues, aren’t you?” He advances on me, fists clenched at his sides. I react instinctually, shoving him against the wall and pressing my forearm to his windpipe. The wolf in me rages, feeling threatened and vulnerable.

Growling, I back up, hands held high in silent apology. He eases cautiously around me. I stalk past him, grabbing the blanket that Lydia draped over Stiles before she left. Burying my face in it, I breathe it in. The scent of Lydia and Stiles, vanilla and rain, still clings to it. I close my eyes, focusing on calming my wolf.  

I turn to face John, holding the blanket against my chest. “Sorry, Sherriff. I’m…on edge.” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, blood dripping from my left hand onto the floor. “My pack is falling apart and it feels like my limbs are being torn off, one by one,” I say forcefully, taking him by surprise. His expression falters and his scent changes, becomes sympathetic. “I didn’t want to leave Stiles, but I needed to find Lydia. He needs her…more than he needs me.”

John exhales, looking at me in an almost fatherly manner. I watch as he walks into my kitchen and grabs a towel, wetting it in the sink. I drape Lydia’s blanket over the couch and take the towel from him. The warm cloth stings the tiny cuts on my palms, agitating them. I clench my teeth, trying to ignore the pain, as I wash away layers of dirt and blood.

“You have no idea how much Stiles needs you,” John says, voice steady and honest. He catches my gaze and stares at me, looking deep into my eyes. “I know what my son is. I know why it’s been raining for three days straight. And trust me when I tell you, it’s not just Lydia he’s missing.” I glance out the window, noting the dark rainclouds that coat the sky; heavy sheets of rain pelt the glass.

“I thought maybe if I could just find her…” I trail off, hands shaking. The adrenaline that’s been keeping me going for days is running dry. I’m assaulted by hunger and pain and exhaustion. My legs give, abused muscles caving, but John wraps an arm around me, preventing me from falling. Lowering me down onto the couch, he runs upstairs to grab me some clothes. When he returns, I dress as quickly as I can, head spinning. He ushers me out into the rain, gesturing to his squad car. I get in and am half asleep by the time he pulls into his garage.

“How is he?” I ask as I follow John up to the front door. Every step I take is agony. Normally my wounds would be healing by now, but I haven’t slept or eaten in days and it’s affecting me. I could do with a few bloody steaks and a good twelve hours of sleep…preferably with Stiles and Lydia draped over me.

“He’s…” John trails off, glancing over at me. His silence says far more than words could. I grit my teeth, cursing myself. I left my mate alone. I fucking abandoned him when he needed me. My wolf rears his head and bears his teeth, willing me to shift. My body starts to shake. An alpha’s control comes from their pack, not the other way around, and my pack is in pieces.

John opens the door and I take a step back, choking on the scent of Stiles’ pain. The smell fills me up, coiling in my guts like a fucking snake. I bend over, dry heaving into the bushes until my stomach burns. John puts a comforting hand on my back, but it does little to bate the animal raging within me. I lift my head, eyes burning red. John takes a wary step back, shifting his hand to rest on the gun at his side.

“Take me to him,” I growl, clenching my fists. The action sends my claws deep into the meat of my hands. But, where pain used to keep me human, now all it does is make my wolf angrier. Stiles and Lydia are my anchors; they have been for a few years now. Without them, I am just an animal. “Now!”

John turns to the side, allowing me entrance. I stalk past him, doing my best to take slow, shallow breaths. I can’t help reacting to the smell of Stiles’ pain. The urge to protect and comfort my mate is instinctual, uncontrollable.

“He’s probably in his room,” John says, eyeing me warily. He takes three steps toward me, smelling of righteous anger and deep parental love. I shake my head in warning; now is not the time to threaten me. Thankfully, he backs down, chin arched defiantly. “If you hurt him I swear to God I’ll- ”

“He’s mine! I would never hurt him!” My voice is thick and hoarse. John nods, taking his hand off of his gun.

I take a few steps up the stairs, listening intently for the frantic heartbeat that belongs to the man I love. But, all I hear is my own and John’s behind me. Stiles isn’t here. Fear tears through me like a bullet. He’s alive, I can still feel him, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe. For all I know, the banshees have him and they’re seconds away from killing him.

The shift takes me, hard and fast. My clothes tear and, with a feral roar, I take off in search of Stiles. John trails me in his squad car as I make my way deep into town, following the faint scent of pain and anxiety. The cuts on my paws reopen as I run, freezing sheets of rain sinking deep into my thick coat.

Stiles’ scent leads me to Oblivion, the same club where we found Lydia a week ago. Despite the rain, the club is packed. Sharp techno music assaults my heightened hearing, making it hard to focus. I can’t hear anything over the noise, let alone a single heartbeat.

Aware that Stiles is close, I am able to reign in my wolf enough to shift. John pulls up next to me and gets out of his car, handing me a pair of black sweats. I slip them on and walk into the club, growling sharply when the bouncer tries to stop me. He backs off instantly, mumbling something about me being a dick. I stalk past him, John trailing close behind me.

The club is thick with the scent of sex and desperation. It clogs my lungs, rendering my sense of smell utterly useless. I shove my way deep into the crowd, searching the faces of the dancers. I’m acutely aware of the fact that Lydia almost got raped here; this isn’t a safe place.

“I’m gonna go ask the bartender if he’s seen him,” John says, veering left.

My wolf growls, pacing back and forth anxiously. Places like this fuck with my control. I can’t hear anything but the music. I can’t smell anything except cheap perfume and even cheaper alcohol. And the bright, twisting lights are giving me a headache. Why people think places like this are enjoyable is fucking beyond me. I like the quiet and the calm.

A beautiful woman slinks around me, running her nails across my chest. “Hey, baby,” she says sensually, twisting her hips to the beat of the music. My heart seizes as I’m reminded of Lydia. She’d never admit it, but she loves it when I call her baby. “Wanna dance?” the woman asks, playing with her hair.

“You’re fucking beautiful, but…I’m here with someone,” I say softly, smiling apologetically. I’ve had enough women in my life to know that a kind approach is often best. Women are by no means weak, but they are sensitive. It is what makes them good mothers, beautiful scholars, and attentive mates.

“No problem,” she says softly. Then, after placing a quick kiss on my cheek, she disappears into the crowd. I scan the dance floor a few times, but I don’t see Stiles anywhere. Once I am sure that he’s not here, I walk over to the lounge.

I look over the small groups of people drinking and the couples making out in the corners. A familiar tattoo catches my eye and I stop short, staring at Stiles’ naked back. The triskelion is almost identical to my own, but underneath it lays a triquetra. I instantly know that Stiles got them for Lydia and I; two gorgeous tattoos representative of the two people he loves most. My cock hardens as I think about holding him down and laving his inked skin with my tongue.

My gaze shifts over his back, lithe muscle under pale skin. His spine curves, hips rolling seductively. I get a little caught up his movements, mesmerized by my sexy little mate. But then two hands slip around to cup his ass and I realize that he is sitting in someone’s lap, riding someone that he doesn’t belong to. Possessiveness and rage tear through me, shredding what’s left of my control.

Stiles leans down to kiss the man, tongue darting into his mouth, and I fucking lose it. I walk over, grab both of his arms and yank him off of the man. Stiles stands up, jerks his arms out of my grip, and twists around to face me. His amber eyes are cold and empty. The life that usually inhabits him is gone. He’s like a flame that’s been snuffed out.

“Hey, Sourwolf. You enjoyin’ the show?” he asks bleakly, breaking my fucking heart. He smells like alcohol and pain, both scents so sharp they are almost complementary. The urge to wrap him up in my arms and comfort him is almost as strong as the urge to hold him down and fuck him, right here, in front of everyone.

My wolf claws at me, urging me to punish Stiles, but I’d never hurt him. The man he was with, on the other hand, him I’ll gladly rip to shreds. I sidestep Stiles and close the distance between myself and the other man. He’s good looking, muscular, but he’s got nothing on me. I place my left hand on the arm of the chair, leaning over the man. “You’ve got five second’s to get out of my face before I kill you,” I say slowly, maliciously. My eyes flash red and he takes off, disappearing into the crowd.

I turn to see Stiles walking away from me. I grab his arm and wrench him around to face me, willing my wolf to behave. “God, Derek, could you get any more fucking cliché? I’m not a damsel in distress. Stop trying to save me!” Stiles says irately. Thunder echoes around us, shaking the building. I’m glad, not for the first time, that Stiles doesn’t have much control over earth or fire yet. Floods we can deal with, earthquakes and wildfires are a different story.

Stiles shrugs me off and starts to make his way over to the bar. “Where the hell are you going?” I ask, fisting my hands.

“Preferably, somewhere you’re not,” Stiles says coldly. My eyes flash red, possessiveness coursing white-hot through my veins. My control is spent. If Stiles doesn’t do something to calm me down I will shift again, giving everyone at this club quite a show.

Furious, I walk over and stop in front of him. He tries to move around me, but I grab hold of him and lift him up into my arms, one hand cupping the nape of his neck and the other tucked under his butt. He starts to struggle, pushing his hands against my chest. Burying my face in his neck, I run my lips every so slowly up to his ear. He shudders, body reacting to my touch beautifully.

“You probably won’t remember this tomorrow, but I want you to know.” I lift my head, catching his gaze. “I love you. I have since the night I met you. I saved you, watched over you.” I bush my lips against his. Every move he makes, however slight, calms the wolf running rampant inside of me. “You are mine. You’ve always been mine,” the reverence in my voice scares me. It’s painfully clear that he and Lydia are it for me. I don’t want anyone else and I never will.

I pull back, startled by the tears welling up in his eyes. For half a second I’m terrified that I hurt him, but he doesn’t smell like pain…only guilt and worry. Tears spill down his cheeks as I cup his jaw, forcing him to look at me. “You left me,” he says, voice breaking with emotion.

“Yes, I did. And I shouldn’t have done that, but I had to find Lydia.” Warmth burns in his eyes at the mere mention of her name.

“Did you find her?” he asks, swelling with hope. I shake my head and he lowers his gaze, looking completely destroyed. My wolf whimpers, aware that we failed both of our mates. Stiles buries his face in my neck, crying softly. I hold him tight, running my hand up and down the column of his neck.

“We’ll find her, Stiles,” I whisper, trying to reassure him. “You and me, we’re gonna find her and bring her home. I promise.” I should’ve taken him with me when I went to find her. He fucking loves her and she is just as much his as she is mine. And, despite my good intentions, abandoning him was cruel.

I locate my connection with Lydia, focusing on it as Stiles clings to me. It’s tightly corded around my connection to him, almost like the two of them are one person. She’s scared and filled with guilt, but at least she’s alive.

“Let’s get you home,” I whisper, making my way towards the nearest exit. I locate John on my way out, motioning him over. The second he sees his son in my arms he exhales, relief wafting off of him. He loves Stiles more than anything; he would gladly die for his son.

Stiles clutches me tight, cheek on my shoulder, as John drives us to my loft. He stops in front of my building. I take a deep breath, noting the twinge of guilt in his scent, and turn to look at him. He’s staring at his son, hands gripping the steering wheel forcefully. He doesn’t want to leave Stiles with me, but I know that he will.

“Take care of him,” he says. I nod solemnly, reaching for the door handle. “Let me know if anything happens and I want daily calls while you two are out looking for Lydia.”

“You got it. Keep me updated on that APB,” I say as I step out of the car. John drives away once Stiles and I are safe inside the building. We ride up the elevator in silence. Stepping into my loft, I make my way upstairs. When we reach the bathroom I put my hands on Stiles’ hips, gently prying him off of me. He stands up, wrapping his arms protectively around himself.

I take his face in my hands, lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Shower. Please,” I say gently. “You smell like sex and alcohol and…another man.” Stiles drops his gaze, shame leeching out of his pores. Before I can say another word he steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

I walk back downstairs and have eaten most of what’s in the refrigerator by the time Stiles appears, dressed only in a pair of Avengers boxer-briefs and holding a towel to his hair. He looks a million times better, but still not completely whole. Standing up, I pull a box of Strawberry Poptarts out of the cabinet and hand it to him.

He swallows, cradling the box to his chest. “I’m sorry, Derek,” the honesty in his voice cuts me to the bone. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You left and I just…I just wanted someone to hold me. Everyone was at Deaton’s…” I wrap an arm around him, pulling him against me with a possessive growl. I can’t believe I left him. I knew better, but all I could think about was finding Lydia.

“I’m gonna hold you all night long,” I whisper, lifting his chin to kiss him gently. He sighs against my mouth, muscles relaxing under my touch. His body melds with mine, leaning into me. My wolf growls, loving that Stiles is relying on our strength. My jaw starts to ache as the urge to mark him overwhelmes me, but I ignore it. Now isn’t the time. “All night…I promise. But first, I have to shower.” I pull away from him, pushing him down onto the sofa. “Eat those. All of them,” I say, eyeing his thin frame. It looks like he hasn’t eaten in a week. 

I walk upstairs, strip off my sweats, and get into the shower. Washing away the blood and dirt that coat my body, I focus on the sound of Stiles’ heartbeat. He’s watching ‘Avatar The Last Airbender;’ I bought the entire series because I know how much he loves it. One of the characters yells something that sounds like ‘melon lord’ and Stiles bursts out laughing, making me smile. God, I love the sound of his laugh. Once I am sure that he is okay, I let the water drown everything else out.

When I am finished showering, I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist. The loft is dark and quiet, Stiles’ heartbeat radiating slow and steady from my bedroom. I walk in quietly, slipping on a pair of black boxer-briefs.

Stiles looks tiny, curled up in my huge bed. I dim the lights and slip under the covers with him. The second I touch him he opens his eyes and smiles sleepily. I lift him up, tucking him against me so that both of his legs are straddling one of mine, head resting on my chest. My cock hardens and his responds almost instantly. I want to take him, hard and fast then slow and easy. But I can’t…not after everything that he’s been through, not without Lydia. I want her there, blushing and wet.

“So, who’s the Melon Lord?” I ask, smirking playfully. Stiles laughs and I relish in the contentedness coming off of him. I want him to be happy. That’s all I have ever wanted.

“That’s Toph…you’d like her. She reminds me of you,” he says warmly.

“Oh really?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.

He laughs, shifting in my arms. “Yeah, she’s just like you…all growly on the outside but a total softy on the inside.” He goes on to tell me all about Toph and how she’s blind but sees with her bending. I have no idea what he is talking about half of the time, but I love listening to him. When he’s passionate about something he dives in headfirst; he doesn’t care what other people think about him. His love is unconditional. “But he has to defeat the Firelord to do that…sorry, I’m babbling. I think I might still be a little drunk.”

“You’re fine. I only got half of what you said, but what I did understand was interesting. It sounds like an elemental wrote it…or at least someone aware of your kind,” I say, drawing patterns on his back with my fingertips. He nods and an effortless silence descends upon us. As I hold him the rain outside eases, settling to a steady drizzle. I had hoped it would stop, but now I know that it won’t, not until Lydia is back with us.

He shifts, dragging something soft up my abdomen and clutching it between us. I take a deep breath, scenting Stiles’ sadness and the faint smell of Lydia that clings to whatever Stiles is holding. It takes me a moment to figure it out, but eventually I realize that it’s Lydia’s favorite sweater. She left it on the floor before crawling into my bed with Stiles. The mere thought of them together, in my bed, is enough to drive me and my wolf mad with lust. I want her here with us. I miss her.

“We’ll find her,” I say softly.

He lifts his head and turns to look down at me. “I know we will and…I have an idea about how to do that.” I nod, encouraging him to continue. “The packs all stay in contact, right?” I nod again, realizing what he is getting at. “So you know how to get ahold of most of the other alphas?” Before I have a chance to answer his question, he clambers over me and grabs my cell phone from the nightstand. Smiling widely, he hands it to me. “We’re gonna send out a werewolf Amber Alert.”

“God, I love you,” I say as I scroll through my contacts.

He catches my gaze, holding me in place with his amber eyes. “I love you too,” he says, flashing me a clever smile. I grab him, fist my hands deep in his messy hair, and pull him down on me. He laughs as I roll over on top of him. Before he can make a snappy comment I capture his lips, kissing him breathless.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore this chapter and I loved writing from Derek's POV, but I can't decide whether or not I pulled it off. He is such a quiet character, it's was hard for me to nail down his personailty. What do you guys think? Did I do him justice? Do you want more Derek and Stiles or should I stick with Lydia?


	16. Chapter 16

Hunger gnaws at my insides until I finally give in. A person can only eat so much gas station food before they keel over and die. I step into a pair of jean shorts and shrug on a flannel shirt that I stole from Stiles. Grabbing my purse, I walk down Main Street until I locate a diner called ‘Pinup Paradise.’

Intrigued, I open the door and step inside. The décor is straight out of the 50’s with a checkered floor, teal walls, and pale pink booths and chairs. The walls are plastered with pictures of pin up girls, hung up in gorgeous white frames that accent the walls. It is so fucking cute that all I can do is stand in the doorway, gaping like an idiot.

“You like it?” a woman asks, making me jump. I twist around to face her, chewing on my lip. Her appearance takes me by surprise. She’s got long blond hair that’s dyed pink at the ends, rose tattoos up her left arm, and bluest eyes I’ve ever seen. Dressed in a fringed black dress, she looks killer. “Sorry, sugar, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she says a giggle.

“No problem. I love your dress,” I say, smiling.

“Really?” she asks, twirling around in a circle. It’s such an odd thing to see an adult doing, but she pulls it off effortlessly. Laughing, she twists around to face me, beaming like a little kid. I arch an eyebrow and she winks playfully. “Isa says it makes me look like a…how you put it, babe?”

Another woman struts out of the kitchen on six-inch heels. With black hair cropped at her shoulders, the body of a runner, and evergreen eyes, Isa is just as beautiful as the other woman. But, their styles couldn’t be more different. Isa looks like a Wall Street lawyer and while her counterpart looks like she works at a tattoo parlor.

“I believe my exact words were, ‘a cross between a Flapper and a prostitute.’ But Max here seemed to think that was a compliment,” Isa says, rolling her eyes. She walks over and wraps an arm around Max’s waist, nosing the other woman’s curls. The gesture is very wolfish, but I brush it off.

“That’s because it was!” Max says, shoving Isa away from her. Isa laughs, smirking wickedly. Something about her reminds me of Derek, but I’m not sure what it is. “Sit wherever you like, sugar. I’ll grab you a menu.” I sit down at the bar and Max returns a minute later with a menu.

“Thanks,” I say, reading it over.

“The pancakes are better than sex…Isabel’s family recipe.” Max turns to Isa, blushing scarlet when the other woman looks her over from top to bottom. “Keep her company for a minute, babe. I’ve got bikers that need their coffee,” Max says then she grabs a coffee pot and walks away from us.

“May I?” Isa asks, gesturing to the chair next to me. I nod and she sits down, straightening her tight grey dress. “Forgive my wife, she’s got the manners of a five year old and no boundaries to speak of.”

I smile, thinking of Stiles. “I know someone just like that. Stiles is twenty, but he’d happily spend all day watching cartoons and coloring,” I say with a sad laugh. I miss him so much it hurts. It’s a dull ache that’s slowly consuming me.

“That’s does sound like Max. We should introduce them,” Isa says, eyeing Max possessively. The two of them are gorgeous together, total opposites that match up perfectly. It’s intriguing. I wonder how they met?

“Yeah, we should, but then we’d never see either one of them again,” I say, making Isa laugh. I smile even though I feel like crying. I’m never going see Stiles again, let alone introduce him to Max, who he would adore. It’s all a little ironic, Stiles loving me for years and then, when I finally return his feeling, I’m forced to leave him forever.

Isa takes a deep breath, expression shifting from friendly to concerned. “Are you alright,” she asks, reaching out to touch my arm.

 

_I am standing in a large kitchen with a younger looking Isabel and a woman I recognize only because Derek has a picture of her on his nightstand…Talia Hale. Glancing around, I realize I’m in the Hale House, seeing it before it burned down. It’s gorgeous, comprised mostly of wood and accented with earthy tones. The architecture a stunning clash between modern and ancient._

_“Why does Derek get to go out but I can’t? It’s not fair!” Isa yells, eyes burning yellow with rage. Talia growls and Isa instantly bows her head in submission. God, Talia was really something to behold. Everything about her screams alpha. She’s a killer mix of power and beauty. And her eyes are exactly the same shade of green as Derek’s; it makes my heart hurt just looking at them._

_“Your brother is a year older than you, Isabel. When you are sixteen you can go out to, but not a day before then,” Talia says calmly. Isa groans exaggeratedly, rolling her eyes._

_I take a step back, completely baffled. Isabel is Derek’s sister? But, he said that everyone in his family was killed in the fire. Does that mean that he doesn’t know his sister is alive? Oh my God. What are the chances of me running into Derek Hale’s long lost sister in Middle of Nowhere, Colorado?_

_“You’re just playing favorites because he’s gonna be alpha next. He’s your favorite and everyone knows it!” Isa says sharply, her words a well-aimed blow. Talia stands up and takes one step towards her daughter. Isa lowers her gaze, whining softly._

_“I love all of my children equally, Isabella. Your brother is older than you and that is the only reason he is allowed to go out with his friends.” Talia exhales, the anger slowly disappearing from her eyes. She reaches out to brush Isa’s cheek. “How about you and I make cookies? I know how you love the batter.” She smiles down at her daughter, eyes alight with memories._

_Isa pulls away from Talia, looking annoyed. “God, Mom, I ‘m not a kid anymore! So stop treating me like I’m one!” She storms off, leaving me alone with Talia in the kitchen. An unknown force compels me to follow Isa. I go with it, fearing what might happen if I don’t._

_I hear Talia growl something that sounds like ‘fucking teenagers’ as I round the corner. Laughing, I follow Isa down the hall and into her room. It’s tastefully decorated in purple and grey, with band posters plastered on the walls._

_Isa slams the door behind us, walks over to her stereo, and switches it on. Music blaring, she grabs her purse and opens the window. I shake my head; she’s clearly done this before. The music is her way of covering up the sound of her escape. Sneaking out can’t be easy in a house full of werewolves._

_I follow her as she slips out the window and takes off. She sends a text as we make our way down the Hale driveway. By the time we reach the end, there is a car waiting for us. I slide inside and Isa follows, shutting the door behind her._

_The car is full to the brim with teenage girls. They are laying on one another and hanging out the windows. They scream as the driver, a redhead, punches the gas. The car shoots down the road, moving at a speed that takes the term ‘illegal’ to new heights. I hate to say it, but Talia has my vote on this. Isa shouldn’t be out on her own, and she shouldn’t be hanging with the Beacon Hills bitch squad. I would know…I used to be their queen._

_“You sneak out?” a dark-haired girl asks Isa, smirking wickedly._

_“Yeah, my Mom is a total hypocrite! Derek gets to go wherever the fuck he wants but I have to stay home because I’m a girl!” Isa says with an aggravated huff, rolling her eyes animatedly._

_“Well he is the king of the school. Far be it from your mother to order him around,” the redheaded driver says as she fixes her lipstick in the car mirror. She pops her lips and twist around to look at Isa. The threat in her eyes is unmistakable. If Derek is the king, then she’s the queen, and she doesn’t want princess Isabel fucking with her status._

_“Yeah…I guess…” Isa says, dropping her gaze._

_“That’s what I thought. Remember your place, Isabella. You can hang with us but the second you forget it…I will throw you to the wolves,” the redhead says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I groan, wishing I could interact with Isa’s memory. I’d just love to fuck this bitch up; seventeen year old me would destroy her._

_I spend the next four hours in hell. The girls giggle through an entire horror movie and then sit in the Beacon Hill’s Diner gossiping and drinking milkshakes. By the time we make it back to the Hale House, I’m ready to gouge out my ears; there’s only so many times one person can hear ‘We Are Never Getting Back Together’ before they want to kill themselves._

_The redhead, Heather…figures that would be her name…pulls into the end of the driveway as fire trucks speed past us. My heart drops as I realize what I am about to witness. I should’ve known. Every other memory I have seen has been terrible. God forbid, I see a wedding or something._

_Isa throws open the door and runs down the drive. She screams when she sees the house; it’s completely enveloped in massive flames, burning bright against the dark skyline. The firefighters are doing their best, but it’s a failing effort. It’s painfully clear that an incendiary device was used to start the fire. Water is doing little to stop it._

_Isa grabs a passing firefighter and shoves him up against a fire truck, eyes burning yellow. “My family! Is my family still in there?” she asks, voice cracked and frayed. The firefighter reaches up, taking hold of her wrists. The second he touches her she releases him. “Tell me! Please!”_

_“The alarm didn’t go off. By the time a jogger called it in there wasn’t anything we could do for them. I’m so sorry.” Isa falls to her knees, sobbing uncontrollably. I instinctually reach out to comfort her, tears brimming in my eyes, but then I remember that I can’t touch her._

_“I…should’ve been here…I could’ve saved them,” Isa whimpers, voice muffled with tears. A tight lump forms in my throat. This is wrong. This is so fucking wrong. If Kate were still alive I’d hunt her down and liquefy her brain. That bitch deserved worse than what she got._

_“I’ll go get the Sherriff. We thought you were inside,” the firefighter says softly. He takes a step away from her and something grabs him, pulling him into the woods. Isa is so distraught that she doesn’t even notice. He reappears a moment later, looking confused. And instead of going to find Stiles’ dad, he walks over to aid his fellow firefighters._

_A gorgeous man in a motorcycle jacket steps out of the woods, long hair billowing in the breeze. He approaches Isabel from behind, deliberate and predatory. In an attempt to protect her, I place myself between them, but the man just walks right through me. He picks her up, tucks her against his chest, and steps back into the darkness._

_I dash into the woods, following Isa instinctually until I stumble upon them in a clearing. Isa is struggling, so much so that the man is having a hard time keeping hold of her. She’s sobbing, makeup-soaked tears cutting grey paths down her face._

_“Let me go! I can’t leave them! I won’t leave them!” she screams, struggling to catch her breath. It’s horrible, seeing a wolf lose her pack. It’s baring witness as pieces of her soul are sliced away, one by one. Derek held onto his anger, using it as a makeshift anchor, but his sister is simply drowning._

_The man grabs her chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Stop struggling, Isabella,” he says calmly. And, just like that, she goes still. I’ve read enough about Supernaturals to know what I am looking at. The only species capable of mind control are vampires. And though I have never met one, it’s obvious that the man holding Isabel is just that._

_“My family! They’re all dead! Oh God,” Isa sobs, chest heaving._

_The man lifts his gaze as five other people step out of the shadows. Like him, they are dressed in black and move without sound. They’re vampires…every single one of them. “Is she the only survivor?” a blond woman asks, concern gleaming in her dark eyes._

_“I’m afraid so. Clearly, Talia was right to fear an attack from the hunters. We need to get her out of here,” he says, scanning the forest with a practiced eye. The woman walks up to them, eyeing Isa in an almost motherly way._

_“Wolves anchor to their family, Charles. Though an alpha might live through losing his or her pack, she won’t. Her wolf is simply not strong enough. If the pain doesn’t kill her, she’ll do it herself.” She stokes Isa’s cheek, but it does little to calm the girl down. She’s breaking, from the inside out. Her whimpers no longer sound human. They are all wolf, the soft sounds reminiscent of an injured animal._

_Charles nods solemnly, looking down at Isabel. “I’ll wipe her memories. It’s what Talia would have wanted. We’ll care for her as if she were one of our own.” He catches Isa’s gaze and holds it. “I want you to forget everything. Your name is Isabella Vasquez. You are an orphan born in Colorado. This woman here,” he gestures to the blond woman, “Her name is Charlotte and she adopted you at the age of five. You were raised in my coven, protected by my coven. We love you and you love us.” Isa blinks a few times, clears her throat, and brushes the tears from her eyes._

_“Where are we, Mom?” she asks Charlotte, one eyebrow arched. My jaw drops. He just erased fifteen years worth of memories in seconds, and replaced them with a few words. She has no idea who she really is. Talia called Charles and his coven because she was worried, which means she trusted them. But they unintentionally stole the only family Derek has left, robbing him of years with his sister._

_“It’s not important. Come, darling, let’s go home,” Charlotte says warmly as Charles sets Isa down. She turns to look at him, smiling._

_“Race you!” she says with a wink. Then she turns and takes off, shifting mid-step. Her wolf form is almost identical to Derek’s, except Isabel is smaller. Watching her makes my body ache. I can almost feel Derek’s soft fur slipping through my fingers. I miss him. I miss his strength and the way that he calls me baby. And I hate that I’ll never see him again._

_Charles shakes his head, smirking. “I think she’ll fit in nicely. Max has been in need of a playmate,” he says to Charlotte as they watch Isa break the clearing. Charlotte smiles, nodding._

I jolt upright, gasping. Glancing around, I realize that I am no longer at the diner. Instead, I’m lying on a purple couch in a house that has to belong to Max and Isabel. The décor is an endearing mixture between modern and eclectic.

“She’s awake!” Max yells, startling me. She rushes into the living room, seating herself unceremoniously down on the coffee table. Isa follows a few seconds later, brows drawn in concern. She rounds the couch and seats herself on its arm, looking down at me.

“Are you okay?” Max asks, but I can’t keep my eyes off of Isabel. Now that I know she’s Derek’s sister, the resemblance is as plain as day. They both have strong, expressive eyebrows, gorgeous green eyes, and hair the color of night. Their builds are both athletic, though Derek is far more muscular. She even holds herself like him, Hale genetics shining through in the proud arch of her neck.

“I thought banshees weren’t capable of projecting at such a young age. It’s quite impressive,” Isa says with a nod. Clearly, she knows a bit about banshees. She cocks her head to the side, anger blazing in her eyes. “Yes…very impressive. But I don’t appreciate strangers digging around in my-”

“Stop it, Isabel! She probably has no control over it!” Max says, eyes flashing werewolf blue. Isa growls at her mate, but keeps her mouth shut. Max turns to me, smiling gently. “Are you alright? Can I get you anything? I’ve got this herbal tea that does wonders on headaches. I can get you some if you’d like.”

“That’s very kind of you, but what I really need is to speak with Charles.” I turn, standing up. Before I can react, Isabel grabs me by the neck and slams me into a wall, cutting off my air supply just enough to stop me from screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter so fast! I got so many lovely comments and they totally motivated me. So thank you for all of your love...I really appreciate it! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter.


	17. Chapter 17

I reach up, frantically clawing at Isabel’s hand. My nails draw blood, but the tiny scratches heal over in seconds. Her eyes burn yellow as she tightens her hold on my neck. “Do you think this is funny?” she asks irately. “Did you come back to gloat? Fucking banshees!”

She lifts me up and slams me back against the wall. My head hits the sheetrock and darks spots flash before my eyes. I drop my hands, limbs going fuzzy. I can’t breathe. I can’t fucking breathe.

“Isabel, let her go! Right now!” Max says sharply. When Isa doesn’t move, Max walks over to us and puts her hand on Isabel’s cheek. “Please, baby. This isn’t right and you know it.” She slowly pulls Isabel’s gaze off of me. “I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t you.” Isa’s eyes shift back to normal and her expression changes as she studies her mate’s worried face. “Let her go.” Isabel releases me and I slide down the wall, gasping and clawing at my neck.

Isa takes three deliberate steps back, hands fisted at her sides. “Max, I just-” she breaks off, sounding utterly destroyed.

Max walks over to her. She reaches up, lovingly brushing the hair out of Isabel’s face, stroking her cheeks gently. Isa closes her eyes, reveling in her mate’s touch. The love twisting between them is almost palpable. It makes my chest ache, an empty void lost of purpose. “Go get some air, honey. I’ll take care of her,” Max says softly, soothingly.

Isa moves to stand between Max and I, burying one of her hands deep in her mate’s hair. “No! I’m not leaving you. If she’s one of them, she could hurt you.” The concern in her voice is absolute. If there is one thing I know about werewolves, it’s that they are incredibly protective creatures. Threatening a wolf’s pack is extremely dangerous, but threatening his or her mate is deadly.

“I’m not here to…hurt anyone!” I say, voice breaking painfully. “I know better than to mess with wolves.” Tentatively, I shift into a sitting position. Every breath I take hurts; it feels like my throat is sandpaper, rubbing against itself.

Isa growls sharply, a clear warning. “And I should just take you on your word for it? Like that shit’s gonna happen.” She’s angry, that much is easy to see, but why? She asked me if I came back here to gloat. Maybe she thinks I am someone else, someone that clearly hurt her.

Max catches Isa’s gaze, tilting her head ever so slightly to the side. “Come on, Isabel. You are letting your grief cloud the truth. Stop using your eyes and use your nose.” She smiles warmly as Isa closes her eyes and inhales slowly, deliberately. The anger seeps out of her, muscles going lax, and she opens her eyes.

“She smells like an elemental and something else…it’s not a strong, but it seems almost…familiar,” Isa says, brows furrowed in confusion. I stand up, legs shaking as I force them to take my weight. Max takes my hand and helps me over to the couch, seating herself once again on the coffee table. Isa moves to stand behind her mate, staring at me like I’m some kind of aberration.

“The elemental is Stiles, the man I was telling you about,” I say, rubbing my neck. “And the other scent is Derek. He’s my alpha and…he’s your brother.” Isabel swallows, clenching her teeth. Max twists around to face her, but Isa takes no notice. Her eyes bore deep into mine, wordlessly demanding I elaborate.

“I think you have the wrong person…” Max trails off, realizing that she doesn’t even know my name.

“Lydia,” I mutter. “My name’s Lydia Martin.”

“That’s a very beautiful name,” Max says with a smile. “But you must have the wrong person. Isabel’s birth parents both died in a car accident when she was five.” Isabel lowers her gaze, turning her head away from us.

“Charles compelled you to believe that’s what happened, but none of it is the truth. Your name is Isabella Hale. Your brother, Derek Hale, is the alpha of the Beacon Hills Pack in California.” I pause, letting the information sink in. “That’s where you were raised, in the Hale pack.” I swallow, not wanting to tell her about the fire. Witnessing her lose them once was bad enough. “When you were fifteen, the Hale house was burned down by hunters. The fire killed everyone in your family, save yourself and Derek.”

“Fuck off,” Isa says furiously. She starts to walk away from us, but Max grabs her arm, preventing her from leaving.

“She’s not lying, Isa, and you know it,” Max says, releasing Isabel. I glance down at my hands, giving them a moment. Learning that your entire life has been a lie can’t be easy. The Isabel standing in front of me is only half of the person that she actually is. Without her true past, she will never be whole. “Just listen to what she has to say. It can’t hurt.” I lift my gaze, watching Max coax Isabel back over to us. She does so with care and caution, a practiced grace.

“Derek thinks that everyone in his family died in that fire. He has no idea that you are alive.” I exhale, fiddling with the sleeve of Stiles’ shirt. “I thought you were dead too, but then you touched me and I saw your memory of that night. It’s still in your head…locked away.” Isa arches her neck, looking down at me mistrustfully. “Talia, your mother, knew that the hunters were after her family. She called Charles and asked him to come…a little extra protection, I guess. But the vampires got there too late. Charles found you, compelled you to forget, and took you in. I think he would have done the same for Derek, had he known you weren’t the only survivor,” I say, keeping my voice steady and even.

“I don’t know you. Why should I believe you?” Isa asks sharply, reminding me so much of Derek that I smile, giggling to myself. “What? Something funny?”

“You get angry just like your brother,” I say softly, stomach tying itself into knots. The mere thought of him makes me want to curl up and cry. I’ll never know what it feels like to have him hold me, to have him wrap Stiles and I up in his arms. God, I miss them so fucking much.

“Plenty of people know how to regulate their heartbeat. You have any proof to back this up?” Isa asks, arching an eyebrow. My first instinct is to pull out my phone and show her a picture of Derek, but then I remember that I left my phone back home. “That’s what I thought.” She bares her teeth at me, eyes burning yellow.

“I don’t have any proof, but I’m not lying. Just ask Charles. Ask him to remove his compulsion. If he does you-”

“He can’t do anything. He’s dead,” Isabel says, voice deadpan and broken. My heart lurches, fear and apprehension cutting me open. Can another vampire remove Charles’s compulsion, or is Isa stuck like this forever?

“Can someone else remove the compulsion? Charlotte maybe?” I ask, worry tearing me apart. If I found Derek’s sister, only to lose her again, I would break my heart. He deserves to have his family back. Guilt eats at him constantly for what Kate did and Isa could balm that wound.

“Yes, Charlotte’s old enough to combat Charles’s influence. She could-”

“No!” Isa says, cutting Max off. She turns to look at me, hands shaking at her sides. Derek rarely loses control, but I’ve seen him do the same thing when he’s about to. “She’s lying. You’ve known me since I was five, right Max?” she asks, uncertainty quaking in her voice.

Max swallows, running a hand up her tattooed arm. “I have memories of us since we were five, but Charles might have compelled me too. That’s not proof, baby.”

“But…” Isa trails off, taking a step back. Max stands up and rounds the table as Isabel blinks, sending tears down her face. She brushes them away as Max pulls her into her arms, cupping her cheek tenderly.

“Go talk to Charlotte. Asking her won’t hurt and if Lydia is being honest, you’ve got a brother I need to meet,” Max says with warm laugh. Her affection tears through Isa’s stubborn walls, forcing Isabel to be honest with herself. Something about their relationship reminds me of Stiles and Derek. I guess the Hales gravitate towards free sprits, people who give love without expecting anything in return. Isabel nods, swallowing. Max kisses her softly and then releases her, trailing her fingers down Isa’s face. “Go. I’ll stay here with Lydia.”

Isa looks over Max’s shoulder, body curled protectively around her mate. “If you hurt her I’ll-”

“Rip my throat out with you teeth,” I say automatically, barely aware of what I’m saying. It’s Derek’s go-to threat where Stiles is concerned and everyone in the pack has it memorized. Isabel takes an apprehensive step back, awestruck. She turns on her heel and walks out the front door, shoulders painfully set.

“How did you…”

“Derek says it to Stiles all the time. Over the years, it’s become less a threat and more Derek’s way of admitting he loves Stiles without actually telling him,” I say, smiling sadly. We all watched as Derek slowly came to terms with his feelings for Stiles. Annoyance turned to fondness, which blossomed into love.

Max nods, glancing at the door. “You said you didn’t know Isabel was alive, right?” I nod. “Then how did you end up in our diner?” she asks, sitting down on the couch next to me. I turn so that I can look at her.

“I have no idea why I do half of the things that I do. They don’t make a ‘How to be a Banshee’ handbook. My guess is that I found Isabel because I was supposed to. Maybe it’s God or fate, for whatever reason, I ended up in Blackwater, Colorado,” I say with a humorless laugh.

“Well, I’m glad you came. Isabel may not be convinced, but I am. And I’m so happy that she has a brother. She’s always felt a little lost, maybe he’s what she’s been missing,” Max says as she stands up and walks into the kitchen. She returns a moment later holding a huge plate of pancakes, a bottle of syrup, and a fork. I take the plate from her, my stomach cramping as I look them over. 

“Derek will be so happy that she’s alive. He misses his family so much,” I say, taking a bite. My taste buds explode, sweet syrup playing on my tongue. “These are amazing!” I say, clutching the plate like something sacred. I cut off another bite, forcing myself to make it small, polite.

Max laughs, eyeing my fork. “Feel free to inhale those. I know how good they are,” she says, winking. I smile and then proceed to shovel half of the plate into my mouth. Max giggles as she watches me devour her food. I’m done in minutes, setting my empty plate on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” I say, feeling like a new person. She nods, practically beaming. “If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to Charles?”

Her smile slips, sadness settling on her shoulders. I worry my bottom lip, wishing I didn’t ask. Seeing her upset is unsettling; it makes me want to wrap her up in my arms. “A group of banshees killed him and seven other members of our coven. Isa blames herself because we were on our honeymoon during the attack.” My heart stops when she says the word ‘banshee’ and have to force myself not to interrupt her.

“Banshees?” I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest. Max nods and I drop my gaze, feeling like my world is caving in. I knew my mother was a killer. She killed Deaton. But he was just an emissary. Hearing that she attacked and killed the leader of a vampire coven, that means that my pack won’t stand a chance against her. My only hope is that she is too busy hunting me to go after them.

“Are you okay? You smell like sadness, you have since I met you, but it just got worse,” she says with a warm smile. “Why are you here, Lydia. If you didn’t come looking for Isabel, why are you alone?” Though banshees aren’t pack animals, she knows that I live with werewolves. She knows that my pack wouldn’t let me travel alone.

“I’m fine. Just taking a little vacation,” I say, faking a bright smile. She returns my smile, but I don’t think she believes me. I grab a yellow notepad and a pen off of the coffee table, jotting down Derek’s number. “That’s Derek’s number. Once Isa gets her memories back she’ll want to call him,” I say, handing her the notepad.

“Thanks,” Max says, setting it down next to her.

I grab my purse from the end of the couch and stand up, aware that if Isa gets back, memories returned, she won’t let me leave. She’ll know that Derek would never let me travel alone, would never put me in danger like that. Banshees are rare and little is known about them. In some places I’d be killed on sight; people are afraid of what they don’t understand.  

“I have to be in Nebraska by tomorrow…sights to see and everything,” I say nonchalantly, standing up. Max’s brows furrow, confusion and disbelief marring her beautiful features.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re running from something?” she asks, standing up. I shrug, slinging my purse over my shoulder. “You’re not safe on your own, Lydia. People are scared of banshees, scared of what they can do.” I nod; she’s preaching to the choir.

“I’m not running from anything,” I say, willing my heartbeat to remain steady. It’s something I’ve gotten a lot better at over the years, but I have yet to perfect it. My pulse jumps ever so slightly and Max steps in front of me, posture less threatening and more protective. I try to step around her, but she’s faster than me.

“Thanks for everything, but I really have to go,” I say, looking up into her effortless blue eyes. She’s studying me, taking in every move I make. I try to move around her again, but she grabs my arms, holding me in place.

“If you are in danger, we can protect you. As far as I am concerned any family of Isa’s is family of mine. And since you are Derek’s-”

“I’m not,” I say sharply, cutting her off. She cocks her head to the side, eyeing me concernedly. “I’m not Derek’s anything.” Sadness blossoms in my chest, igniting the empty void inside of me. It steals the breath from my lungs and fills my eyes with tears. I’m not Derek’s or Stiles’. I’m nothing, no one.

“Oh my God, honey,” Max says as she pulls me into her arms. I cling to her dress, tears streaming down my face. It’s been too long since someone held me. I breathe in her affection, using it to fill the emptiness that’s eating away at me. It hurts. Everything fucking hurts. “It’s gonna be okay. You’re alright, darling.” She pushes my head back, forcing me to look at her. “Did someone in your pack hurt you?”

I shake my head frantically. “No, they’d never hurt me.” She nods, believing me wholeheartedly. Though abuse in wolf packs is rare, due to the werewolves’ natural instinct to protect what’s theirs’, it isn’t unheard of. They are a violent species, after all.

I pull away from Max, her hands still framing my face. She brushes away my tears, smiling compassionately. I grit my teeth, wanting nothing more than to curl up and wait for Derek to come for his sister. But I can’t do that. I won’t risk the lives of the people I love.

“Why don’t you spend the night? I’d love to hear more about you and your pack. I’ve never been to Cali, I hear it’s gorgeous,” Max says, trying to take my mind off of everything.

“Thanks, but I really have to go. Please make sure that Isa gets her memories back and calls Derek. They are family and they need each other.” I step around Max, taking hold of the doorknob, but she grabs my wrist. I twist my head around to look at her. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you don’t let me go, I will,” I say forcefully. She debates for a fraction of a second before releasing me. “Thanks again. It was lovely to meet you.”

I open the door, step outside, and close it behind me. It takes me a moment to get my bearings, but eventually, I find my way back to the hotel. Frantically, I repack my stuff and toss it into my car. Starting her up, I speed out of Blackwater, Colorado, willing myself not to cry.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you think of this chapter? It was a bit of a filler, but I just adore Max and Isabel. Comment and let me know if you liked it. :) I think I am gonna write the next chapter from Stiles' POV so get ready for that. Haha.


	18. Chapter 18

\- Stiles -

 

“Sorry about the rain,” I say, eyes fixed on the windshield. The wipers slide up and down, brushing away the water. I can feel the storm just under my skin, a quiet writhing…a steady beat. I’ve tried to settle it, but every time I reach for it, I am consumed with thoughts of Lydia. Her gorgeous hair spread out on Derek’s dark pillow. Those hazel eyes looking up at me, seductive and intelligent.

“I happen to like the rain,” Derek says.

“Is that because-”

“I swear to God, Stiles, if you make a dog joke I will rip your throat out with my teeth,” he says, eyes flashing red.

I burst out laughing. “You promise?” I ask wickedly, glancing over at him. His eyes are on the road, but his attention is firmly fixed on me. “I’m down for gettin’ kinky…if that’s what you want.” Derek growls and the sound goes straight to my cock. I tip my head back, exhaling slowly. Fuck him for being so goddamn sexy. He and Lydia have been the center point of my fantasies for as long as I can remember having them. 

Derek catches my gaze, pupils dilating as he inhales my scent. “Stop,” he says sharply, eyes blazing as he gives me an achingly slow once-over. I swallow, shifting to adjust the pressure on my cock. Wind circles around us, balmy and mischievous. I can feel the element inside of me, instinctually reacting to my emotions.

“What? I’m not doing anything.”

“You’re my mate, Stiles. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to resist you when you’re aroused?” he asks, voice thick and husky. I lick my lips, wringing my hands. “One whiff and all I can think about is fucking you…fucking you until muscles give out and all you can do is beg.”

 I exhale shakily, chewing on my bottom lip. I can almost feel him inside of me, muscular frame pressed up against my back. I shiver unconsciously, reacting to his hot breath dusting across the back of my neck…breath that isn’t actually there. God, I’d like nothing more than for him to fuck me. He knows I want him so, why hasn’t he taken me?

Derek turns back to the road, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. I put my hand on my cock and bite back a groan as I shift, readjusting it. Silence settles on us and I use it as a chance to reign myself in. Once I’ve got myself under control, I look over at him. “I’d like nothing more than for you to fuck me,” I say, making him choke. His eyes flit over to me, brows drawn. “So, why haven’t you?” He turns back to the road, fisting the steering wheel tightly. I tap my fingers on the door for a few seconds, impatient for his explanation. “If you’re worried about he virginity thing, don’t be. I’m not a virgin in any sense, not since-”

Derek growls furiously, cutting me off. “If you say their names I’ll be tempted to hunt them down and kill them.” I cock my jaw to the side, wondering why his possessiveness turns me on so much. He sees me as his and it’s sexy as hell.

We sit in silence for a moment and I watch as Derek slowly reigns in his wolf. His eyes shift back to normal and his muscles gradually relax. Once I am sure that he is in complete control, I catch his gaze. “You gonna answer my question?” I ask, smiling reassuringly. “If you want to take things slow, I am fine with that.”

He runs a hand down his jaw, exhaling. “Did Lydia tell you?”

“Tell me what?” I ask, heart in my throat. Hearing Lydia tell me that she loved me was like hearing the words of God. It was biblical, life-altering. The words spilled out of her perfect mouth, taking me down. Wind twirls around us, playing with the papers that litter Derek’s front consol. He arches an eyebrow and tips his head toward me as if to say, ‘you know what.’ I bite my lips, hating this. I love them both. I don’t want to choose between them…I’m not sure if I can. “Yeah, she told me and then Deaton died.”

“So she told you that she loved you, nothing more?” he asks. I arch an eyebrow. What else was she going to tell me? And why isn’t Derek angry that Lydia is in love with me? He just threatened to kill two nobodies that I had sex with.

“She told me she loved me and a minute later she was screaming. Then she passed out, woke up, and started to throw up blood.” I shudder, remembering the way that her spine caved as she forced black blood out of her body. It was horrible, a fucking nightmare.

“She was purging Deaton’s sins. She must have granted him absolution and, in doing so, taken in his sins,” Derek says softly, reaching over to take one of my shaking hands. He laces our fingers together slowly, taking time to run his fingertips down my hand. My stomach ties itself in knots, taking my breath away. His skin is rough and callused, overworked.

“We kissed,” I say, bracing for backlash…but none comes. He simply brushes his thumb across mine. “Why aren’t you all red-eyed and growly?” I ask, voice cracking. He chuckles, perplexing me further.

“That would be a little hypocritical seeing as I kissed her too,” he says, glancing over at me. My jaw drops. When the fuck did this happen? And since when are they even interested in one another? Yes, Lydia did say that Derek is, and I quote, ‘the definition of sexy.’ But that doesn’t translate to having feelings for him. Lydia says the same thing about every hot guy she comes in contact with. God, where even was I when this happened? “You’re freaking out. There’s really no need, Stiles.”

“No need! The man I love kissed the woman I love. Where the fuck does this leave me? If you two are gonna ride off into the sunset together, just tell me! I might as well jump off a cliff now.”

Derek growls, tightening his hold on my hand. “Don’t even fucking say that! If I lost you it would ruin me,” the veneration in is voice makes my chest ache. He loves me, that much is true. “Having Lydia so far from me makes my body fucking ache…I can’t imagine how bad it would be if I lost one of you. I’d die.”

“One of us?” I ask. He didn’t mention the rest of the pack, so he’s not talking about them. Why is he grouping Lydia and I together? I am his mate, but Lydia is just another member of his pack, right? I quickly remind myself that they kissed. The idea sets my blood on fire, making lightening strike the skyline ahead of us.

Derek catches my gaze and holds it, stealing my breath away. “I’d like both of you to be my mates. And, before you ask, yes it’s a perfectly normal thing for werewolves…particularly alphas.” Derek pauses, giving me a moment to digest what he is saying. “Sexual attraction for werewolves is very…fluid. My wolf sees you both as my mates and, though it’s rare, it does happen. My mother said it was nature’s way of making sure that bloodlines continued.”

“So, babies?” I ask, throat dry.

“Yes, babies,” Derek says with a deep chuckle. I mouth at the air for a moment, running through everything that he just said. Derek and Lydia being attracted to one another isn’t really that surprising. I mean, he is like a fucking Greek god and she puts Victoria’s Secret models to shame. What I don’t understand is why they are both in love with me. It’s not like I’m anything special.

“Why me? The two of you could have anyone you want…anyone,” I murmur dejectedly, lowering my gaze.

Derek grabs my chin, forcing me to look up at him. “We love you because you’re honest, loyal, incredibly smart, and as beautiful as the storms that run through those veins of yours.”

I swallow, tears brimming in my eyes. That’s got to be one of the nicest things anyone has ever said about me…and it came out of Derek Hale’s mouth. I never would have pegged him for a romantic. Freshman year I had myself convinced that he was a mute serial killer. Now that’s character development.

“Thanks,” I say bashfully, blushing. He squeezes my hand, turning back to the road. We are somewhere in Utah, headed to a town where an alpha claims to have seen Lydia’s car drive past. It’s not a great lead, but little sightings of her car have gotten us this far.

“You’re welcome,” Derek says with a smile. “You’re not opposed to the idea, are you? I won’t force you into anything. If you just want Lydia I will-”

“No! No, I’m not opposed,” I say rapidly, cutting him off. “Why in God’s name would I have a problem with it? I’m all for the sexy threesome. All for it!” Derek laughs, rolling his eyes at me. “You and Lydia are like tens and everyone knows ten plus ten equals twenty. It’s just math. Throw me in the fact that I’m in love with both of you and that’s-” Derek’s phone rings, cutting off my rambling.

He pulls it out of his pocket, presses answer, and holds it up to his ear. “Hello,” he says calmly, voice quietly authoritarian. But before he has the chance to say anything else I grab the phone from him. “Stiles!” he growls, reaching for it.

“Criminal justice major,” I say proudly. “It’s illegal to talk on the phone in a car. Even for you, Sourwolf.” He rolls his eyes, gesturing towards the phone. I wink at him and put it up to my ear.

“Hello? Are you still there?” a woman asks.

“Yeah, sorry. Derek is driving so I took his phone…safety first and all that. I’m Stiles,” I say, reminding myself to breathe between sentences. Sometimes people get a little lost when I ramble, but the woman doesn’t seem to have any problem keeping up.

“Oh, I understand. It’s nice to meet you,” she says, voice sugar-sweet. Derek cocks his head to the side, listening to our conversations. “My name is Max and I live in a town called Blackwater, Colorado. I can’t really explain right now, my wife is having an existential crisis, but I need you to come to Colorado.”

I glance over at Derek, who shakes his head. “Not that I don’t trust you, random stranger. But I’m gonna need a little more information than that.”

Max bursts out laughing, making me smile. Her laugh is like exactly how I imagine Princess Lolly from Candy Land laughs, all gumdrops and sunshine. “I like you. You’re Derek’s mate, right?” she asks, catching her breath.

“Yes. How do you know Derek?” I ask suspiciously. I mean it’s not like Derek knows many people. He’s not really the ‘let’s be best friends’ type. I am 99% percent sure that he doesn’t even know how to text. I mentioned Twitter once and he thought I was talking about a bird.

“His sister…she’s…well she’s my mate,” Max says, stumbling across her words. Brows furrowed, I look over at Derek, who is clenching the steering wheel so tightly it looks like it’s about to break. I thought everyone in his family died in the fire. That’s what he told me.

“Put it on speaker,” he says, a venous cut to his voice.

“I am gonna-”

“I heard,” Max says, sounding terrified. I worry my bottom lip as I ease the phone back, putting it on speaker.

“All three of my sisters are dead! I’m aware that word got around of my betrayal, but I had no idea what she was,” Derek draws out the word ‘betrayal’, hatred seeping into it. It takes me a moment to realize that he is talking about Kate. “You may think that I deserve this, but I don’t appreciate you calling just to reopen old wounds,” the ache in his voice makes me want to scream at Max, berating her for hurting him.

“No, that’s not what this is about. I know that the fire wasn’t your fault, Derek,” Max says, voice warm and honest. Derek swallows, grinding his teeth slowly back and forth. If Kate were still alive, I’d freeze the air in her lungs and set her on fire for what she did to Derek and is family. “Isabel doesn’t blame you…you have to know that.” Derek drops his gaze at the mere mention of his sister’s name.

“Isabella is dead! She died in the fire along with my parents, my other sisters, my little brother, my aunt and uncle, and their kids. They are all dead!” Derek roars, eyes burning red. I reach over and place my hand on his arm. The second my fingers make contact, he stops shaking.

 “Isa snuck out with her friends that night. When she came back she was found by a friend of your mothers, a vampire named Charles,” Max says, voice quaking with fear. She clearly isn’t used to being yelled, especially not by an alpha. The instinct to submit is ingrained in them; she’s probably bowing her head right now. “Your mother had asked him to come, expecting an attack from the hunters. But he got there to late.” She pauses, giving Derek some time to digest.

We sit in silence for a few moments, Derek in complete shock. He thought that he got everyone in his family killed. He has been living with that truth for years. That kind of guilt does a serous number on a person. “Go on, Max, “ I say, eyeing Derek warily. His eyes are fixed on the road, hands shaking ever so slightly.

“Charles found her and, assuming everyone else had died in the fire, compelled her to forget who she was and then accepted her into his coven. She-”

Derek roars, squeezing the steering wheel so tightly that the metal gives, leaving indentations of his hands. “That bastard took my sister away from me!” he yells, scaring even me. Werewolves are very territorial and Derek’s family is sacred to him.

“He saved her life!” Max says, standing up for Charles while at the same time keeping her voice submissive. “Betas and omegas never live through the loss of their packs. Alphas are strong enough, but they are not. Had her wolf not killed her, she would have killed herself.” I swallow, chewing on my cheek. I had no idea that was true, but it makes sense. Wolves generally anchor to a family member or a mate, while other Supernaturals anchor to an object or a place.

Derek flexes his fingers, exhaling. I rub my hand up and down his forearm, trying to give him some comfort, a level place to land. Slowly, he calms. “And how did she find out about his compulsion? Did he just decide that ten years was long enough, that she could handle it when she turned twenty-five?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“No. Charles was killed when a group of banshees attacked our coven,” Max says, voice laced with sadness. Derek and I look at each other, silent words passing between us. It must be the same group of banshees that killed Deaton, the ones who are after Lydia. “Isa and I never would have known who she really is, but yesterday this girl walked into our diner.”

“Lydia! Was her name Lydia?” I ask frantically, clutching the phone like a goddamn lifeline. I miss her so much it hurts. Every bone in my body aches with it.

“Yes,” she says and I exhale, muscles going lax. We found her, finally. And I am not ever going to lose her again. I’ll die before I let her put herself in danger like this again. “Isabel touched her and Lydia saw her memory of the fire. She convinced us it was the truth and Charlotte, one of our elders, undid Charles’s compulsion on Isabel.”

“Then why the fuck isn’t my sister talking to me right now?” Derek asks, glaring at my phone like it insulted him.

“She’s passed out on the couch. She’s almost called you a hundred times today, but she’s been too scared. I got annoyed and just decided to dial it for her. She had a bit of a panic attack so I gave her a Xanax,” Max says with a sad little laugh.

“That does sound like her, ever the drama queen,” Derek says, smiling.

“Don’t I know it,” Max says with an adorable little giggling.

“Is Lydia still there?” I ask, unable to keep myself in check for a moment longer. I hold my breath, hoping that she’s got Lydia Xanaxed on her other couch. God, I’m getting desperate.

“She left late yesterday. I tried to stop her, but-”

“Fuck!” I say sharply, clenching hand hands into tight fists. We were so close, so fucking close. What if I never see her again? For all I know, she’s dead, lying alone and bloody somewhere. The breath in my lungs constricts, making it hard to breathe. Wind thrashes around in the car, cutting across my skin. I’ve had enough panic attacks to know what’s about to happen.

Derek pulls the car off the side of the road and turns to look at me, taking my hands in his. “Shh, Stiles. It’s okay. Lydia’s fine. I can feel her. She’s alive,” he says gently, trying to pull me out of my own head. I try holding my breath, the way my mother taught me, but it doesn’t work. All I can think about is Lydia, dress torn and bloody, lying on the side of some highway. A stabbing pain runs through my chest as I struggle to breathe.

“What’s going on?” Max asks, voice thick with motherly concern.

“He’s having a panic attack,” Derek says, pulling the phone out of my tightly clenched hand. He sets it up on the consol and unbuckles my seatbelt, picking me up and pulling me into his arms. I fist my hands in his dark shirt and bury my face in his neck. He clutches me to him, brushing a hand down the nape my neck. “Lydia is fine. We are going to find her.” Lightening strikes around the car, quickly followed by thunder so loud it hurts my ears. Derek cups my face in his hands. “Look at me. Stiles, look at me,” he says, forcing me to lift my head. His green eyes tear through me like knives. Dark spots start to form in front of my eyes. I’m going to pass out.  

“She’s not here, but I sent someone to follow her. I know exactly where she is,” Max says hastily, her voice thin with worry. The information skinks deep into my bones, steadying my rapidly beating heart. “She’s still in Colorado. Nova will keep her safe until you get here.” I close my eyes, picturing Lydia with cherry blossoms dancing around her. The memory sooths me until I can breathe. I gasp for breath, struggling to refill my screaming lungs.

Derek buries a hand in my hair, holding me against him. “How do I know this isn’t a trap? You’ve given me no proof that my sister is actually alive,” he says tonelessly.

Max clicks her tongue for a moment, thinking. “You were born with white fur,” she says, taking me by surprise. Derek’s fur is as dark as night, always has been. “Your mother had a witch spell it black when you were little. She and your father were scared that your white fur would make you an easy target for hunters.” I lift my head, brows furrowed. Derek meets my gaze and nods, green eyes heavy with memories of the past. He turns to look out the window, shame marring his face.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the story my parents told us, but that’s not actually why I was spelled.” I arch an eyebrow in silent question. “My mother’s friend, a witch, helped her give birth. She couldn’t go to a hospital because werewolves are born in wolf form. When I was born the witch, Vienna, had a vision. She claimed I was a death omen, said she saw my white fur covered in blood. My mother was so scared that she had me spelled.”

“Oh my God,” I say pulling him into a hug. He buries his face in my neck, letting my scent soothe him. “You know that’s not true. Visions are always open to interpretation. For all we know, you’re destined to roll around in a strawberry patch.” He laughs, wrapping his arms around me.

“I love you,” he says, kissing my neck. I shiver as I reach over and grab my phone. Derek continues to kiss his way up to my jaw as I take my phone off speaker, putting it up to my ear.

“We’ll be there in a few hours. Text me the address,” I say, trying to ignore Derek’s ministrations. Every time he moves his stubble scratches my neck and my cock jumps, hardening.

“Okay, will do. Thanks for listening,” she says softly. “I’m so sorry about the…” she trails off, not knowing how to approach the subject of my panic attack.

“That wasn’t your fault, Max. I have ADHD, abandonment issues, and serious anxiety. One of these days I’ll get bitten by a radioactive spider and become a total badass. But, as of now, I’m kinda lame,” I say playfully, making her laugh. She tells me she’ll text me and I hang up.

“God, you smell amazing,” Derek growls into my neck. I gasp, heart kicking into overtime as he licks my neck. “Like a fucking rainstorm…”

“Thanks, Sourwolf,” I say as I grab his jaw and kiss him. He presses me up against the steering wheel, lips twisting around mine. I open my mouth and he growls, tasting me with his tongue. Fisting my hands in his hair, I deepen the kiss. My body is on fire, tropical winds circling around us. He drops his hands, cupping my butt. I gasp as he pulls me forward, pressing my cock against his. I pull back, groaning. “We’re starting something we can’t finish,” I say as he kisses his way down my neck.

Lydia is safe, somewhere in Colorado. She is a part of us and we need her. I hated the idea of choosing between the two people I love most, but they took that choice away from me. The three of us together in every way, what more could I possibly want?

“Mine,” Derek growl, making my stomach clench. I run a hand down the nape of his neck, trying to ignore how hard I am. Sitting in his lap is something I have always wanted to do. It’s intimate and sexy, plus I’ve been told I give killer lap dances. Derek reaches my collarbone and growls again. I jump when I feel sharp fangs scraps lightly against the skin at the base of my neck.

Before I know what’s happening, Derek sets me back in my seat and steps out of the car. I chew on my lip as I watch him pace back and forth in the rain. He cocks his jaw from side to side, sharp teeth on full display. It almost looks like he is in pain. Worried, I reach for the door handle, but he growls at me, eyes flashing crimson.

A few minutes pass and he gets back into the car, teeth and eyes back to normal. He starts up the car and pulls onto the road, refusing to meet my gaze. I’ve read enough about werewolves to know that they have an instinct to mark their mates, but I had no idea it was so powerful. Derek’s control is nearly flawless. It takes a lot for him to break, and I did it with a few kisses.

“I’m sorry,” he says after about twenty minutes of silence. I look over at him, hating the guilt weighing in his eyes. He has nothing to be sorry for.

“You’re a werewolf. Wanting to mark your mate is normal,” I say with a warm smile. He grits his teeth, running a hand through his hair agitatedly. “I’m not afraid of you, Derek.”

He shakes his head irately. “Yeah, well, maybe you should be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended up being way longer than I intended. The Sterek fan in me went a little crazy. Haha. Please let me know what you thought of it. Oh and quick question, who else loved all of the Stydia moments in this weeks episode? I almost died! :)


	19. Chapter 19

\- Derek -

 

My wolf gnashes and claws at me as I drive. I cock my jaw from side to side, teeth aching. Before, the pain only ever lasted a few minutes, but it’s been almost an hour. Fisting my hands on the steering wheel, I exhale shakily. Had Stiles not heeded my warning and stepped out of the car, I would have marked him. I almost lost it.

“Are you okay?” Stiles asks, fiddling with his fingers anxiously. I grit my teeth and the motion sends pain shooting through my jaw. My wolf growls, thrashing against the tight hold I have on him. My cock is still hard, so hard it hurts. I’m tuned in to Stiles; his scent is driving me up the fucking wall.

“No,” I say forcefully, not wanting to lie to him. His scent shifts from concerned to intrigued. I rarely lose control and when I do it’s never like this. My mother told me that the instinct to mark one’s mate is strong, but I never guessed it would feel like this. My wolf is clawing away, just under the surface of my skin. I haven’t been this out of control since I was a child.

“You look like you’re in pain,” he says softly, amber eyes gleaming. I swallow, forcing myself to focus on the road. God, he’s so fucking beautiful. Lithe muscles constantly shifting, dark hair tousled…begging for my fingers. “Dammit, Derek, I can tell that you’re in pain!” His scent flares and deepens, love mixing with agitation. I take in the smell like a drug, using it to calm my wolf. I’ve known for a while that Stiles was attracted to me, but I never thought that that attraction would turn into love.

“It’s just my jaw…it’s normal…” I say, glancing over at him. His anger slips away, quickly replaced with concern. Brows drawn, he studies my jaw, eyes trailing on my lips. His scent flares with arousal and my cock jumps, making me growl. My skin flushes, heat burning through my veins like wildfire.

“Oh, God, I’m sorry!” Stiles says sharply as he turns to roll down his window. I take in the fresh air, my wolf berating me for wanting to rid the car of our mate’s lovely scent. “If it’s any consolation…” he trails off, chewing on his lip as he stares out the window. “I kind of want you to…you know…bite me…”

“Fuck, Stiles!” I growl, banging my head on the steering my wheel. Lifting my head, I catch his gaze, aware that my eyes are red. He shifts uncomfortably, an adorable blush running up his cheeks. My fingers twitch with the impulse to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth on his cheeks. “You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He cocks his head to the side, arching an eyebrow incredulously. “Actually, Sourwolf, I’m pretty sure that I do. I know more about werewolves that Deaton did, which is saying something.” Wind circles around us, cool and insistent. I glance at the road and then turn back to Stiles. I know that he’s read just about everything ever written on werewolves, fact and fiction. But, what it’s like to be mated to a werewolf isn’t something that has ever been written down.

“You will be mine, Stiles. Forever,” I say ardently.

He nods twice, brows drawn. “I know. That’s all I want…to belong to you and Lydia. And for you both to belong to me.” The love in his voice strips me bare. It settles on my skin and sinks deep into my bones. I want that too. I want them by my side, in my bed, for the rest of my life. I shake my head, carding a hand through my hair. “Look…if this is about the whole knotting thing…I’m fine with it. Bite me. Knot me. Tie me up and spank me for all I care.”

I groan, running my hand down my face. My cock hardens further, pressing painfully against my jeans. Of course he knows, what the fuck doesn’t Stiles know? He’s a genius with ADHD. Though his attention span can be sporadic, he has a tendency to become obsessed with things. When he found out about Scott, he made it his goal to learn everything there was to know about werewolves. I catch his gaze and smirk. “Do you enjoy fucking with my control?”

He laughs and the sound goes straight to my cock. “You know it,” he says with a cocky little wink. He glances down at the GPS and then turns back to me. We just reached Blackwater, Colorado. “It only happens to mated werewolves though, right? When they mark their mate and then afterwards.”

“Yeah,” I say with a curt nod. “And it’s not just that.” Stiles arches an eyebrow at me, willing me to continue. “When a werewolf marks their mate, they bond with them. You will become more than an anchor for me. I’ll always know where you are and how you are feeling. It will hurt me to be away from you. You’ll have full control over my wolf. If you want me to shift and kill someone, I won’t have a choice. And if you die, I die.”

 Stiles twists his fingers in his lap, worry wafting off of him in waves. I turn back the road, giving him time to process. It’s a lot to ask of a person. I’d especially be giving him my life.

Turning off the main road, I make my way up into the mountains. The GPS says that we are ten minutes away from Max and Isa’s house. I still can’t believe my sister is alive. And, after all this time, my beautiful Lydia is the one who brought her back to me. My wolf writhes just under my skin, responding to the mere thought of Lydia. Stiles isn’t the only person I want to make mine.

There’s a part of me that still thinks this is all a trap, that Isabel isn’t actually alive. But how else would Max know about my fur? The only people who knew the true color of my coat died in the fire, or at leas I thought they did. I’ve thought about getting the spell reversed a few times, but I just can’t make myself do it. What if the witch’s vision comes true? She was right about me being a death omen. I got my entire family killed.

Stiles reaches out and takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine. I blink a few times, returning to reality. He squeezes my hand, pulling my attention off of the road. I look over at him, getting caught up in his doe eyes. “Will you be able to mark Lydia too?” he asks gingerly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. His scent becomes sharp, anxiety cutting my nose. The urge to comfort him overwhelms me, consuming my every thought.

I lift my hand, bringing his fingers up to my mouth. He shudders as I brush my lips across his knuckles. I should have known he’d be worried about Lydia. He only just found out about my intentions for the three of us a few hours ago. It’s not like he has had a lot of time to process the idea.

“My wolf sees you both as my mates. I’ve been dealing with the urge to mark you for a few years now. But I wanted to wait until you were both in college.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly, chest aching. “And I would have said something then, but you were still dealing with what the Nogitsune did to you…and Lydia had distanced herself from the pack.” I honestly wish I’d approached them both earlier, it might have saved us all some heartache. “I though maybe the two of you had started seeing each-”

Stiles pulls his hand from mine and grabs hold of my jaw, cutting me off. His fingers dig into my skin as he turns my head, forcing me to look at him. His eyes bore deep into me, his scent thick with anger and sadness. “I needed you then. Lydia needed you then!” The agony in his voice strips me bare. “I needed you to hold me while I was having nightmares! Lydia needed…she needed us to be there when she…” he trails off, tears spilling down his pale cheeks.

I stop the car and reach over, thread my fingers in his hair. Leaning over, I kiss him softly. He melts under my touch, scent filling with relief. Hearing that my mates needed me and I wasn’t there for them is worse than torture. My wolf gnaws at me, punishing me. “I’m so sorry. I knew you were in pain, I felt it, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you,” I whisper against his lips, cupping his face tenderly.

“I could have done with some overwhelming,” Stiles says, shaking. Fear oozes out of his skin; my wolf reacts to the scent instinctually, pressing me to shift and protect our mate. “Lydia tried to help, but it wasn’t like she could spend every night at my house.” I kiss him again, brushing the tears from his face. If the Nogitsune were still alive, I’d flay that little bastard. No one hurts my mates. No one.

I growl, lifting Stiles’ gaze. “No one is ever going to hurt you again,” I say fiercely. His scent softens, shifting from scared to calm. I close my eyes, taking in his scent, loving that he’s comforted by my protectiveness. “Whether or not you and Lydia want to mate with me, I’ll always protect both of you.” He nods, brushing away his tears and turning back to the road.

“Let’s go. I’ve always wanted to meet another Hale,” he says with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I put the car in drive and start down another road. The pain drifting off of Stiles sets me on edge. He misses Lydia and he’s terrified that something might happen to her.

We pull up to a little cabin that can only be described as cute. It is small and cozy looking, comprised of dark wood and accented with pink and purple flowers in the flowerbeds. In the driveway there are two cars, a pink Fiat and a black Audi r8. I shake my head, easily guessing which vehicle belongs to my sister.   

Stiles and I step out of the car and into the rain. I wrap an arm around him as we make our way up to the door. He tucks himself up against me and I growl appreciatively, loving the feel of him. I lift my hand to knock on the door, but it opens before I have a chance.

A woman with dark hair jumps into my arms, clinging to me as she buries her face in my neck. I release Stiles and take a deep breath, breathing in her scent. It cuts me open like a knife, reminding me of home. It’s Isabel. She’s older and mated, but she still smells like raspberry and cedar. I lift her up and twist her around, the way I used to do when we were little. She laughs, looking up at me with tear-filled eyes.

“You got…fucking gorgeous,” I say, cupping her face in my hands. She smiles, green eyes mirroring mine perfectly. Despite the age difference, people used to think Isa and I were twins. We let it slide most of the time, except when we were fighting, then we’d let said person have it.

“You got…tall,” she says with an adorable little laugh. I wrap her up in my arms again, unable to believe that she is alive. God, I missed her so much. Isa was always my partner in crime. She and I fought constantly, but we always had each other’s backs. “And where the hell did this scruff come from?” she asks, running a finger down my jaw. I laugh, placing a kiss on her head.

I pull back, but keep an arm wrapped protectively around her. She notices Stiles and turns to look at him, cocking her head to the side. I motion him forward and he approaches my sister cautiously, smile widening as he gets closer to her.

“May I?” Isa asks, gesturing to Stiles. I nod and my sister closes the distance between herself and Stiles, reaching up to brush a finger down his nose. “He’s fucking adorable.” Stiles blushes, making me smile. Isa pulls him into her arms, kissing his cheek.

“I’m Stiles,” Stiles says, a little flustered, as Isabel eases back. She laughs, flashing me a smile over her shoulder.

“Pleasure to meet you, little one. I’m Isabella Hale, but you can call me Isa.” Stiles nods, studying my sisters face like a work of art. He glances over at me and I realize that he’s comparing us. Isa grabs my hand and pulls me towards the door. “Come inside, get out of the rain. Not that it isn’t lovely, Stiles,” Isa says with a wink.

“How do you-”

“Lydia was wearing one of your shirts. Elementals have a very distinct smell,” she says, cutting Stiles off. He drops his gaze, wringing his hands as he struggles to keep himself from bombarding Isa with questions. The rain at our back gets heavier, coming down in sheets. I wrap my arms around Stiles, moving him into the house. Isa closes the door behind us, gesturing us over to a couch.

I sit down, settling Stiles down next to me. He tucks his head under my chin, seemingly determined to wait until Isabel is seated before he berates her with questions about Lydia.

My sister walks out of the living room and into what looks like a kitchen, returning a moment later with a gorgeous blond woman. Her pink hair and tattoos make me smile. Looks like my sister and I both have a thing for the wild ones. The woman’s bright blue eyes light up when she sees us and she smiles warmly.

“This is my mate, Max,” Isa says as Max grabs her hand and laces their fingers together. The two of them couldn’t be more opposite, but for some reason it works. Stiles lifts his gaze and brightens up when he sees Max, eyeing her tattoos curiously. I release him and he stands up, approaching her.

Isa cuts across the living room, settling herself down on the arm of the couch. She sets her hand down on my shoulder and I breathe her in, closing my eyes. I never thought I’d see her again, let alone have her sitting right next to me. She squeezes my shoulder and gestures over to Max and Stiles.

“I love your tattoos,” Stiles says with a smile.

Max giggles, running a hand down her arm. “Opening with a compliment. Am I just easy to read or are you and Lydia basically the same person?” Max asks, making me laugh. Basically the same person is right. Though Stiles and Lydia have different interests, their hearts are the same. They are both intelligent, loyal, and mine…all mine.

Stiles practically vibrates in front of Max for a moment, trying to hold himself back. But the damn breaks before he has much of a chance. “Where is she? Is she hurt? You said that you had someone watching over her, are they trustworthy? Because if someone touches on hair on her perfect little-”

“Easy, babe,” I say, cutting him off. He takes a deep breath and exhales, giving Max an apologetic look. “One question at a time. Normal people can’t understand you when you talk a million miles an hour.” Stiles glances over his shoulder and rolls his eyes at me, making Isa laugh.

“I guess it’s a good thing Max isn’t normal then,” Isa says sardonically, eyeing her wife. Max giggles, flashing Isa a wicked smirk. My sister looks her over slowly, eyes trailing on her ass, tits, and lips. Max blushes, turning back to Stiles. I catch Isa’s gaze, arching an eyebrow. She scoffs, shoving my shoulder playfully. 

Max grabs Stiles’ hand and pulls him over to sit next to her. He shifts to face her, fiddling with his fingers anxiously. “Lydia is still in Colorado. She’s about two hours west of here in a town called Tremonton.” Max pauses, racking her brain for what Stiles asked next. “No, she isn’t hurt, but she was really scared. I could smell it on her.” Stiles drops his head and lightening strikes a tree outside. Max meets my gaze and I nod, silently assuring her that she is safe with him. She takes Stiles’ hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “My best friend Nova is watching over her and, yes, he is completely trustworthy. He’d die for Isa and I.” Stiles nods, but looks unconvinced. Worry seeps out of his pores, pulling my wolf to the surface. Max catches his gaze and holds him in place. “She’s perfectly safe, Stiles. Nova’s one of our very best warriors.”

“He’s a vampire?” Stiles asks incredulously, jaw clenched tight. I turn to my sister, rage spreading through me like a cancer. She shakes her head and gives me a pointed look, silently reassuring me that Nova can be trusted.

“I was raised in a coven. Vampire get a bad rap because of the blood drinking thing, but not all of them are bad people. Yeah, there are some crazies, but the same can be said for wolves,” Max says smoothly. Stiles relaxes ever so slightly, but the lightening outside doesn’t let up. Max glances over at me and swallows, reacting to my red eyes. She’s probably never seen the eyes of an alpha.

“Call him,” Isa says, eyeing me warily. Max pulls out her phone, locates her friend’s number, and presses send. She puts it on speaker and lets it ring.

“She’s fine! She was fine the last time you called…ten minutes ago,” Nova says, annoyance pouring through the phone. Max rolls her eyes, making Isa laugh.

“Shut up, Nova! It’s not like you have anything better to do,” Isa says with a smirk. Nova hisses, setting my teeth on edge. Stiles bristles, eyeing me warily. The only vampire I’ve ever met was Charles. My mother invited him over for dinner a few times when I was young. But I kept my distance, unsure of what to think of him.

“God, you are such a grump when you’re hungry,” Max says playfully.

“Fuck you too, princess. And I’ll have you know I had a date yesterday! With the bartender!” Nova growls. The icy edge to his voice makes me wonder what kind of sinful things he had planned for this bartender.

“The bartender! Ugh…you’ve been stalking him for weeks!” Max says. Stiles flashes me a shocked look. Max catches it and bursts out laughing. “I didn’t mean prey stalking. I meant creepy weirdo stalking,” she says, between giggles, holding her stomach as she struggles to catch her breath.  

“I like to think of it more as creative researching,” Nova says, making Stiles and Max laugh. The sarcastic lilt in his voice hints at a good-natured personality hidden beneath all of his attitude. His friendship with Max starts to make sense. “And, yes, I will resent you forever for making me follow around baby banshee when I could be getting fucked into-”

“We have company, Nova,” Isa says dryly, cutting him off. “My brother Derek and his mate Stiles are here. Lydia is their…” she trails off, glancing over at me, one eyebrow arched.

“She and Stiles are mine,” I say fiercely, making Stiles shiver. I catch his gaze and he swallows, biting his lip reflexively.

Isa laughs, punching me in the shoulder. “One mate not enough for you, Der?” she asks with a smirk. “Figures. You always were a possessive little bastard.” I shove her off the arm of the couch. She lands in a graceful crouch, eyes flashing a brilliant yellow. Max giggles, crinkling her nose adorably.

“You didn’t tell me you had a brother, Isabel. Has he got any sexy little puppies in his pack? I could do with some ruffling up…get it ruffling,” Nova says sardonically. Stiles chuckles, always appreciative of a good dog-joke. I growl, doing little to help my case.

“Please keep my mate safe until we get there. She is very important to us,” I say forcefully, eyes on Stiles. He smiles softly, settling my wolf. 

“No problem, wolfie. If anything attacks baby banshee I’ll tear out their intestines and use them to hang them from the justice building.” Nova chuckles. “And my English teacher said I wasn’t poetic.” Stiles eyes the phone, shocked and intrigued by the vampire’s maliciousness. Personally, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Lydia is safe and that’s all that matters.

“God, you’re such a little psychopath,” Isa says as she crosses the room to stand at Max’s back.

 Nova laughs. “You know it. Now hurry up and get here. I’m getting hungry and baby banshee’s blood smells like strawberries.” I growl irately and he chuckles. “God, take a fucking joke, will you? Werewolves…terrible sense of humor.” He hangs up the phone and Max slips it back into her pocket.

We sit in silence for a moment, processing. “Well, he’s…” Stiles trails off, making Isa laugh. Max obviously loves Nova, but she’s got blinders on. Isa clearly sees him from a different angle.

“I know, but he’s Max’s best friend,” Isa says, meeting her wife’s gaze. Max purses her lips angrily, but her mad-face is on a level with Stiles’. Isa buries a hand in Max’s blond hair and leans down to kiss her mate softly. Stiles turns away from them, blushing beautifully. Isa pulls back and looks over at me. “Max found Nova three years ago when she took a trip to Cali. He was living on the streets, turning tricks for food.” Stiles drops his gaze, jaw clenched tight. He has a soft heart, taking in the pain of others and carrying it within himself.

“So, I played Bruce Wayne to his Dick Grayson,” Max says with a sad smile. I glance over at Stiles, who is beaming at her like she is a goddess. I arch an eyebrow. Bruce Wayne is Batman, but I have no idea who Dick Grayson is.

“Dick is Robin, but he eventually becomes Nightwing,” Stiles says, clarifying the comic book reference for me instinctually. I nod, loving his enthusiasm. He turns back to Max, brows drawn. “How old is he?”

“Eighteen,” Max says, blue eyes warm and honest. I drop my gaze and shake my head, hating that one so young was forced to endure such hardship.

“Is that code for something? Is he actually eighteen or is it more like eighteen-hundred?” Stiles asks, making Max and Isabel laugh.

“Vampires aren’t immortal, that’s a myth,” Isa says, taking Stiles and I both by surprise. “They strategically implemented that belief into human mythology. The fear it instilled has protected them for centuries.”

“Sunlight?” Stiles asks, ever the curious scholar.

“Nope,” Max says.

“Garlic?”

“Nova fucking loves the shit. Italian food is his favorite,” she says, laughing. 

“Mirrors?”

“Also something Nova loves. Self-involved little prick,” Isa says playfully. I laugh, God I missed her so much.

“Super speed and heightened senses?” Stiles asks, burning with intuition.

“Their senses are on a level with wolves, but they are faster than us,” Isa says. I nod, remembering Charles appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“Are they all humans who were turned or can a vampire be born?”

“Turned. Vampirism is a disease whereas lycanthropy is genetic. Humans can be turned into werewolves, but if they don’t carry the recessive gene then they’ll die,” Isa says, clear and precise. Stiles drops his gaze, internalizing the information like a goddamn encyclopedia. “Now, what’d you say we go get your girl?”

We walk out of the house. Max and Isa slide into the Audi, Isa commenting on our exceptional taste in cars. Stiles and I get into the Camaro. He remains eerily silent as we drive. He scent, an odd mixture of excitement and dread.

Speeding, it takes us about an hour to get there. Isa and Max stop in front of a motel on the outskirts of town. We all get out of our vehicles and are immediately greeted by a young man dressed in black. His limbs are thin and lithe. The dark hair on his head is styled into a perfect fohawk. He pulls off his sunglasses, assaulting us with piercing eyes the color of coal.

“She’s in room fifteen,” he says nonchalantly before turning to face Max. “Please, dear God, tell me you brought me some blood.” The hunger in his voice is raw. Isa must have instructed him to stay with Lydia at all times, preventing him from feeding. Max pulls a bag of blood out of her purse and hands it to him.

“We’re going to head back home, let Nova get some sleep. Call me when you’re done…playing hero,” Isa says with a wink. I growl and she laughs, flashing me a smile. I turn to face Stiles. His eyes are firmly fixed on Lydia’s window. She walks past it and, the second Stiles sees her, the rain stops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slow update, lovelies! My period decided to fuck with my zen. Anyone else think being a girl totally sucks? Haha. Anyways, I'd love to hear what you thought of the chapter. I'll try to update as soon as possible. :)


	20. Chapter 20

I finish shoving clothes into my bag and zip it up. Maybe I am just being paranoid, sudden rainstorms do happen, but they never act like this one. One second it was hammering the window and the next it had stopped completely. Stiles is an elemental with an affinity for thunderstorms. If he has somehow found me, it would explain why the rain stopped so abruptly.

Why the fuck don’t motel rooms have a back doors? Cursing the motel gods, I sling my bag over my shoulder and open the door. I turn to close it behind me and back straight into a wall of muscle.

“Going somewhere, baby?” Derek asks, his deep voice trailing down my spine like hot water. I swallow, running through my options. I can’t run, Derek would catch me before I made it to my car. I can’t take them out with my scream, at least not at the same time. The frequency for elementals is far higher than it is for werewolves.

“Fuck,” I mutter, teeth clenched tight.

“Fuck is right,” Derek says dryly. Dropping my bags, I twist around to face them. Derek’s massive body is curled around me, simultaneously protecting and caging me. He catches my gaze and I break under the weight of his green eyes. He gives me a pleading look and shifts out of the way, revealing Stiles.

My stomach clenches painfully, tears filling my eyes. Stiles is paper thin, clothes hanging off of his body. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, trying vainly to hold himself together. His head is bowed, eyes digging into the pavement. The angle of his head hides his eyes, but does little to cover the darks circles under them.

I react instinctually, stepping past Derek and pulling Stiles into my arms. He stands stock-still, refusing to give in. Heart in shreds, I reach up and take his face in my hands. He melts under my touch, letting me lift his gaze. His amber eyes cut through me. The emptiness in them is utterly terrifying. I’ve never seen Stiles looks so…lost.

“Oh, God…I’m so sorry, beautiful,” I whisper against his lips, holding his gaze intently. He breaks when I call him beautiful, pulling me into a fierce hug. I bury my face in his chest, hating myself for doing this to him. I don’t deserve either of them, I never have.

I gasp when Derek pulls us both into his arms, tucking himself up against my back. He buries his nose in my hair, taking in my scent as if it were Chanel No. 5. Stiles leans into his touch as Derek runs a hand through his messy hair. I twist in their arms, enabling me to fist a hand in Derek’s t-shirt, drawing on his strength. God, I missed them.

For a minute, I forget about my mother. I forget about the cult of murdering banshees that are hunting me down. All I can think about is Stiles and Derek, and how much they both mean to me. But, then it all comes back, in one thick wave. My mother will use them like weapons against me and then kill them when she’s done.

Derek tightens his arms around me, scenting the fear radiating off of me. I open my mouth, intending to take Derek out with a scream. But before I can make a sound, Stiles fists a hand in my hair and kisses me. It’s needy and desperate, tongue twisting artfully around mine. He puts everything into it, every ounce of pain my absence cost him. My spine gives and I lean back, letting Derek take my weight as Stiles kisses me like it’s the first and last time he ever will.

“If you think we’re ever gonna let you go again, you’re wrong,” Derek whispers as he noses my neck, scenting me. Stiles tilts my head to the side, deepening the kiss while simultaneously giving Derek more access to my neck. “You can try and run again, but we’ll find you. We’ll always find you.” The promise in his voice is absolute, irrevocable. I gasp into Stiles’ mouth as Derek licks the skin behind my ear, tonguing his way down my neck.

Stiles eases back, breathing hard. He trails a hand lovingly down my cheek, only to clamp it over my mouth. I reel back instinctively, Derek tightening his hold on me. I struggle against them, aware that fighting against a werewolf is futile at best.

“Lydia, look at me,” Stiles says calmly. I twist my head around to glare at him. He’s not hurting me, but I never thought he’d lay a hand on me like this. “I’m sorry, Liddy, but it was this or Ducktape.”

“I said Ducktape would be easier, but Stiles was worried your hair would get caught in it,” Derek says and I can hear the soft smile in his voice. He adores Stiles just as much as I do. He is our heart, the red string that ties Derek and I together.

“I’ll let you got, but you have to promise to give us five minutes,” Stiles says, eyes digging into me. “Five minutes and then we’ll let you go. I’m not saying we’ll stop hunting you down, but we will give you a day’s head start.” I nod, eyes narrowed in disbelief. There’s no way that they are letting me go, Derek already made that crystal clear.

Stiles pulls his hand back and I let out and ear splitting scream. Derek releases me, raising his arms up to clamp them over his ears. He drops to his knees, body shaking as he struggles to stay in human form. I hate that I am hurting him. He’s an alpha werewolf, reigning at the top of the food chain. He doesn’t belong on his knees.

While Derek is down, I shift the pitch of my scream, attacking Stiles next. Turns out, it’s a hell of a lot easier then I thought it would be. He stumbles towards me, intending to clamp his hand over my mouth again. I take three quick steps back, watching as he falls to the ground. I hate this. I hate hurting them. Tears stream down my face as I turn to run.

A pair of black eyes stops me in my tracks. “Close your mouth and hold still,” the man says, irises dilating outward the way that pupils do on a human. Before I know what’s happening, my mouth is shut and every muscle in my body is locked into place. It takes me half of a second to realize that he’s a vampire. I’ve never seen one, but it is as plain as day. No other supernatural creature has the ability to compel thoughts and actions. “You’ve got some pipes on you, baby banshee,” he says as he eases back, irises returning to normal.

He stalks around me, dressed in a black leather jacket and ripped skinny jeans, a wicked smile playing on his lips. He looks like he belongs in a boy band; he’d fit right in with the boys from Five Seconds of Summer. He’s handsome, there’s no disputing that fact, but there’s something unnerving about him. His movements are slow and predatory; eyes boring into me like dull knives.

“He’s ten times better than Ducktape,” Stiles says sardonically, voice weak.

“Don’t hurt her, Nova,” Derek says as he helps Stiles to his feet. The vampire, Nova, lets out a sharp little laugh, aristocratic nose turned up proudly. How the hell do they know him? I rack my brain, but the only answer I can come up with is Max and Isabel. Nova must be a part of their coven.

“If I wanted to kill her, I would have done it yesterday. I’m not stupid,” Nova says tonelessly, rolling his eyes at Derek. “Besides…I don’t do that anymore.”

Max and Isabel walk around the corner of the motel, both looking utterly exhausted. It dawns on me that my scream must have affected them along with Derek. Their presence here explains how Derek and Stiles found me. Isabel must have sent Nova after me and then called her brother to tell him where I was.

“You two okay?” Isabel asks, eyeing Stiles and Derek.

Stiles nods, hands shaking. “We’re alright,” he says softly, doing little to convince anyone. Derek slips an arm around him, pulling him in close. Isa grits her teeth and turns to look at me, dark eyes steady and violent. I try to back up, but my body remains stubbornly still.

“The only reason I’m not killing you right now is because it would only cause my brother more pain,” Isa says irately. She takes a step towards me and Derek growls, a sharp warning. The noise stops her in her tracks. “But, make no mistake, banshee. If you ever hurt them again I will end you!”

“Isabella, back up!” Derek growls. Isa fights her brother’s dominance for a moment, but eventually she has no choice but to submit and obey. Derek catches his sister’s gaze and holds it, red eyes gleaming. “She is mine. You will never hurt her, is that clear?” he says, voice deep and wolfish. I swallow, loving how protective he is of me. Despite the pain I have caused him, he still cares about me.

“Yes,” Isabel mutters, eyes downcast.

“Good,” Derek says with a nod. Max grabs her wife’s hand and pulls Isa away from me. I want to apologize to all of them. I wanted to bring Isa and Derek together, not place myself between them. Hurting Derek and Stiles was never my intention, but if I stay with them they are as good as dead.

Nova groans exasperatedly, toying with a section of fringe on his leather jacket. “Can we get on with this? Wolf dominance is only interesting when there is fucking involved and I am still hungry…bagged blood sucks ass.” He arches an eyebrow insistently, tonguing the twin lip rings circling the left side of his lower lip.

“She thinks that running from us will keep us safe. There’s a group of banshees who are after her,” Stiles says, voice cracked and faint. My heart aches with the knowledge that I did this to him. I hurt him.

“Banshees?” Isabel asks, brows drawn. Derek nods and his sister lets out a fierce growl, eyes flashing yellow. “Charles was killed by banshees. Nova was there when it happened.”

Nova looks up from the pavement when he hears his name, yawning like a bored cat. “Story time…right,” he says, blinking sleepily. “They were looking for a redheaded banshee…who I assume is baby banshee here. Anyways, when Charles said that we didn’t have any banshees in our coven the head bitch screamed. The only reason I survived was because I was in the kitchen making spaghetti.” Stiles arches an eyebrow at him and Nova laughs, realizing how insane his justification sounded. “I always listen to music when I cook. The headphones must have plugged my ears.”

“They were after Lydia?” Max asks, glancing over at me “Why?”

“She’s the most powerful banshee ever born. Her scream can kill humans,” Stiles says, adoration plain in his voice. Why does he still love me? All I’ve done is hurt him, again and again.

“Cool,” Nova says, eyeing me cleverly. I want to explain, to tell them why the banshees are really after me. Yes, I am powerful, and that is a factor. But the real reason they want me is because their leader is my mother, who intends to use me as a weapon to take over the world.

“They threatened to kill us, that’s why Lydia left.” Derek turns to his sister, expression grave. “They killed Deaton.” Isa grits her teeth, shaking her head in disbelief. Max buries her fingers in Isabel’s hair and guides Isa down to her neck, letting her wife take comfort in her scent.

Nova rounds Max and Isa, coming to stand before me. “I’m going to ask you a few questions.” His dark irises dilate, pulsing ever so slightly. “You are going to answer me truthfully and you are not to scream. Nod if you understand.” I nod solemnly, utterly fixated on his gorgeous eyes. “Do any of these banshees mean anything to you?”

“Their leader, Diana, is my birth mother. She wants to use me as a weapon against the vampires and the werewolves. Once they are gone, she plans to enslave the humans,” I say, words spilling out of my mouth on their own. Being under compulsion is odd. I am no longer in control of my own body.

“And how do you know this?” Nova asks.

“They projected into my head while I was dreaming.”

Nova nods, sucking on his lip rings thoughtfully. “I am a firm believer in free will, baby banshee. So tell me, where do you truly want to be?”

“In Beacon Hills, with Stiles and Derek,” I say, the truth a weight off of my chest. Derek growls appreciatively, giving me an aching slow once over that floods my body with heat. Stiles smiles from his place in Derek’s arms, amber eyes brimming with love.

“Good,” Nova says curtly. He tilts his head to the side, a manic glint burning in his eyes. “So what’ll it be, are you going to run again or are you going to stay and fight? If you want to run, I will let you go.”

I think on it for a moment, deliberating. If I run, Derek and Stiles will forever be focused on getting me back. Stiles will wither away while Derek blatantly neglects his pack. But, if I stay and fight, my mother will come after my pack. She’ll kill them just because I care about them. No other reason needed.

My mother’s face flashes before me eyes, insane and beautiful. I can almost feel her hand slapping across my face, blood pooling into my mouth. She’ll never stop coming after me. And the more I run the angrier she will get. Before long she’ll start taking out everyone I ever knew, vainly trying to get to me. I can’t let that happen.

“Fight. I want to fight,” I say ardently, making Nova smile. He leers at me, canine teeth elongating into wicked little daggers. He runs his tongue along them, hissing ever so softly.

“I love a good fight. They’re so…yummy.” His voice fills with lust, slow and sultry. He drops his gaze to my neck, eyeing it hungrily. “So much blood…sweet and warm and gushing…” he says, words rhythmic and methodical. I try to step back, but his compulsion is as strong as ever. I’m stuck in place and unable to scream. Derek growls, eyes flashing red. He takes a few steps towards me, but Isa stops him with a hand on his chest. “One little bite. It’ll only hurt for just a-”

Max cuts Nova off by stepping between us. “Oh my God, Nova, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?” she asks, more worried than annoyed. Nova’s only response is to hiss veraciously, eyes shifting to trail on Max’s neck. She reaches her wrist up and places it against his lips. “Go ahead, sugar. I know you’re hurting.” The warm cadence in her voice brings Nova back to the surface.

Before I have time to blink he is standing fifteen feet from us, head hung in shame. “I’m sorry. I should have eaten, but Isabel said not to leave her…she said she was in danger,” he says dejectedly, reminding me of a child being punished. I’m taken with a rather odd urge to take him into my arms, to comfort him. He starved himself to protect me, a complete stranger. “I’m so sorry.” He stands absolutely still for a few moments, staring at the pavement.

“Nova?” Isa says hesitantly.

The vampire lifts his head, staring manically at nothing. “I used to tear their throats out. I used to drink them dry.” He smiles like the fucking Cheshire cat, all sharp teeth and deadly angles. “But they deserved it…they were bad…” Nova trails off, muttering to himself. His expression shifts, becoming almost child-like again. “But killing is wrong. Max says it’s wrong. I love Max. She’s nice. She holds me when I’m scared and lets me eat whenever…”

“Novacane, look at me,” Max says sternly. Nova turns to look at her so quickly that I don’t even see him move. He eyes her quizzically, dark eyes wide and open. “I know you’re hungry, sweetheart, but I need you to stay with me.” She approaches his cautiously, holding her wrist out. “Take what you need. I know you won’t hurt me.” Her tone is kind, motherly.

Nova glances down at her wrist, fixating on it like a moth to a flame. Max’s hand shakes as Nova lunges forward, lightening fast. He grabs her wrist with both hands and bites down. Max gasps, pain cutting across her face.

Derek takes a step towards Max, but Isabel presses him back, one arm across his chest. He turns to look at her, eyes burning red with fury. “He’s hurting your mate, Isabel! He’s drinking her blood and you’re just letting it happen!” he says irately before shoving Isa away and charging forward to grab Max.

“Derek, no!” Isa screams as Derek yanks Max away from Nova. The vampire lifts his head, blood running down his chin, and bares his fangs. The humanity that inhabited his eyes when Max was talking to him is gone, enveloped by a void of darkness. He glares at Derek, who growls threateningly.

“It’s rude to interrupt someone when they are eating,” Nova says tonelessly. He looks and sounds like a completely different person. The sardonic punk from before is gone and standing in his place is a ruthless killer.

“No, what’s rude is eating people!” Derek says, teeth lengthening. Nova laughs humorlessly, shaking his head indignantly. Fear coils in my stomach. Derek may be an alpha werewolf, but Nova is vampire. He has the power to make Derek do whatever he wants. One look from Nova, and he could make Derek kill Stiles, shred Isabel’s face, and claw out his own throat.

Nova closes the distance between himself and Derek, squaring up with a man three times his size. His hand shoots up to seize Derek’s neck, fingers digging into his nape and thumb tucked under Derek’s chin. Leaning in, he hisses ferociously. “It’s mine to have! Mine to take! Who are you to stop me from taking what is mine, you vile little pup!” Nova says, voice thin and frenzied. Derek growls, ready to attack, but before he can make a move Nova’s eyes dilate. “Don’t move.” Every muscle in Derek’s body locks up, leaving his as vulnerable as me. Nova chuckles as he circles slowly around Derek.

“Nova,” Max says gently, trying to coax him back to the surface. But, he simply ignores her, sights fixed on Derek.

“I think you could do with some manners, puppy. You should learn to behave yourself,” Nova says smoothly, sliding like a snake around Derek. “I could teach you…” He fists a hand in Derek’s hair and wrenches his head back, baring Derek’s neck. “But…it’s going to hurt,” Nova says, staring at Derek’s neck.

“Touch him and I’ll burn you alive,” Stiles says wrathfully, amber eyes narrowed. Wind whips around us, thrashing away at my exposed skin. Nova lifts his gaze from Derek’s neck, releases the wolf, and is standing in front of Stiles before he has a chance to blink.

“You think you can kill me, firestarter?” Nova asks, laughing frenziedly. “Sweet little bit that you are.” He reaches up to trail a finger down Stiles’ cheek. The wind circling round us speeds up, picking up debris and tossing it around. Stiles glares fearlessly at Nova. “I’ve always wanted to die. I am dead…I guess, but did I really die? Am I actually dead?”

“Stop this, Nova!” Isa growls, placing herself between Nova and Derek. Nova twists around to face her, baring his fangs in annoyance.

“Hold still and shut up, wolf. We’re trying to have a conversation here.” Isa freezes in place, unable to move an inch. “Don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt when people are talking? Very rude!”

Nova turns back to Stiles, who looks from me to Derek, terrified that he’s about to lose us. “Let them go. Right now! Do it or I’ll kill you,” Stiles says fervently. And I know that he will. Stiles is a good person, but he’d gladly kill to save the people he loves.

Nova groans exasperatedly, rolling his head around on his shoulders. “Will you? Can you? I’m already dead. Can you kill someone who is already dead?” he asks, licking the blood from his lips. He gives Stiles a moment to answer, but Stiles remains stubbornly silent. After a moment of deliberation, Nova shrugs. “Oh well. Philosophy is boring anyways, and I’m still hungry. So do me a favor and…hold still while I kill you.” He smirks and then strikes, burying his teeth deep in Stiles’ neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone should make me a shirt that says 'Cliffhanger Queen' because I love them. Haha. What do you guys think of Nova? I adore him, but I've got a thing for the crazy ones. I'll try an update soon. :)


	21. Chapter 21

Stiles lets out a piecing scream. The noise tears away at my ribcage until it reaches my heart, shredding the organ. I struggle against Nova’s compulsion, furious tears streaming down my face. But I can’t fucking move. Stiles is in pain and I’m standing a few feet away, utterly useless.

Derek is glaring at Nova’s back, his red eyes cutting into the vampire. He fights viciously against the compulsion, the urge to protect Stiles bringing out his wolf. His fingers twitch, small muscles spasms running up his arms, but in seconds he is still once more. My stomach clenches painfully; Stiles is going to die, drained dry, while Derek and I stand helpless.

Nova moans as he buries his teeth deeper in to Stiles’ neck, infuriating me. If he kills the man I love, I’m going scream until his brain leaks out of his ears. I don’t care if he’s Max’s best friend…I’ll fuck him up. No one hurts my baby.

“Nova, honey, I know you’re still in there,” Max says, whisper-soft. Nova ignores her, fisting a hand in Stiles’ hair. “Please, baby, listen to me.” Her tone is earnest and loving, motherly. She clearly adores Nova, but is her love deserved?

I know a lot about vampires, but I also know that most of the lore written about them is bullshit. They aren’t immortal and they can walk in the sun. Unlike lycanthropy, vampirism is a disease. And, like any other disease, it attacks the host. If vampires don’t feed every few days, they go rapid, mad with thirst. Right now, Nova isn’t in control. His vampire instincts have taken the reigns. Regardless, I still intend to kill him if he hurts Stiles.

“This isn’t you. I know you…you’re a good person,” Max says as she inches her way over to Nova. “Do you remember that little black kitten you found on the side of the road? You took her home and spent hours and hours bottle feeding her. Then she got hit by that car and I found you crying in the shower.” My heart breaks as I picture him curled up in the shower, sobbing over the loss of such a tiny thing. A vampire, one of the most powerful creatures alive, nursed an abandoned kitten back to health. Maybe I misjudged him. “You felt so bad, said it was your fault.” Max exhales a little shakily, tears falling from her cheek. “She was alone…just like you were. You thought you could give her the home you never had.”

I can’t help but wonder what Nova went through. Why didn’t he have a home? I can tell from the look on Max’s face that it was bad. Her eyes are heavy with pity and longing and devotion. She knows him, at his very core, and hates seeing him like this. 

“You stopped eating after that, determined to kill yourself. Isabel had to force blood down your throat before you went rabid. You cried and pleaded, begging us to just let you die! But we couldn’t do that, you wanna know why?” she asks, voice breaking with emotion.

To my complete surprise, Nova releases Stiles and reels around to look at her, tears cutting paths through the blood on his face. Stiles falls to the ground, landing in a crumpled heap. Nova glares at Max, daring her to deny his nature, to grant him blind forgiveness. His eyes are still dark, but there is humanity in them. He is in control, but fucking hates himself for losing it.

“I’m not worthy of your love, Max! I don’t fucking deserve it!” he yells, clenching his hands into quivering fists. The conviction in his voice is absolute. He truly believes that he doesn’t deserve her love. What the fuck happened to him? What kind of life did he live, to end up so utterly damaged? “I’ve killed people! I am a murderer! I can’t…I just can’t…”

Max closes the distance between them, wrapping her arms around him. I expect him to struggle, to shove her away. But one touch from her and he caves, curling into her. His shoulders shake with silent sobs as she runs her fingers through his hair, comforting him. I want to be angry with him for hurting Stiles, but it’s hard to hate someone so broken. 

“Vampires lose control when they’re hungry. It wasn’t your fault. Isabel and I shouldn’t have put you in this position,” Max says soothingly. “I’m so sorry, baby.”

Nova pulls away from Max, shoulder curled inward, and walks over to kneel next to Stiles. The guilt on his face is heartbreaking. He gently lifts Stiles up, wrapping an arm around his neck, and leans down to lick Stiles’ neck. I am overcome with fury for half of a second, but then I realize what he’s doing. When he lays Stiles back down, the wound on his neck is gone…completely healed. Nova chews on his lip rings as he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over Stiles.

He stands up and turns to face us, lifting his head slowly. Max gives him an encouraging smile and he swallows, looking close to tears. “I’m sorry. I’m not saying that wasn’t me, because it was. I got bitten when I was nine years old.” My heart stops, pity washing over me. Infecting a child, what could be more cruel than that? “My parents were very religious. They though I was possessed and paid some crackpot rabbi to exorcize me.” Nova exhales shakily, dropping his gaze. “He tried to drown me in holy water and I reacted.” He looks up, glaring at us with tear-filled eyes. “I killed them and…I didn’t stop there.”

“Nova, honey, you don’t have to justify yourself,” Max says, worry tightening her beautiful features. Nova glances up at her and my body aches with the hurt in his eyes. My mother is a murdering psychopath, but at least she never paid someone to drown me.

“Yes, I do,” Nova says, voice cracking. “I let the disease take control. I spent three years living in the back of my own head, letting the demon inside of me do whatever it wanted. Then when I finally realized what I had done, it took me nearly a month to regain control of my own body. I woke up and I was in an underground parking garage, somewhere in California. I was twelve years old, broke and homeless. I was scared of myself and everyone else. A man offered to pay me if I gave him a blowjob and I went from there. I had no idea how to compel so I killed criminals, rapists, and pedophiles to stay alive.” He glances over his shoulder at Stiles, clenching his eyes shut. “I’m not trying to justify what I just did. You have every right to kill me for hurting your mate. But, just understand, because I was bitten so young and gave over to my own impulses, my vampire nature is very strong. If I don’t feed every few days, I turn into the monster that I really am.”

“Oh, baby…no,” Max says, sobbing softly.

Nova squares his shoulders and arches his neck, black eyes dilating. “You can move,” he says tonelessly. I fall forward, but Derek catches me before I hit the pavement. Gingerly, he lowers my body to the ground, brushing the hair from my face. I fist a hand in his shirt, trying to stop him from going after Nova, but he breaks my hold as if it’s nothing.

Standing, he stalks over to Nova and bares his teeth, growling ferociously. It is a terrifying sight, an alpha werewolf inches from ripping someone to shreds. Surprisingly, Nova holds his ground. Were he a werewolf, he would be forced to bare his neck, compelled by Derek’s dominance. But Nova is a vampire.

“I’m going to rip you apart and feast on your entrails,” Derek growls sadistically, red eyes gleaming. I glance over at Max and Isa, both of whom have their heads bowed in submission. Derek’s dominance must be a force of nature.

“If it makes you feel better,” Nova says nonchalantly, shrugging.

Derek glances over Nova’s shoulder at Stiles, who is still unconscious, and shifts. His clothes rip as an enormous black wolf takes his place. He takes a few steps back and bends his front feet, getting ready to pounce. I expect Nova to defend himself. Instead, he looks over at Max, catches her gaze, and nods appreciatively. 

Max sobs, pleading for Nova’s life, as Isa wraps her arms around her wife. Derek glances back at Isa, who gives him an earnest look, wordlessly begging he spare Nova.

Derek turns back to Nova and bares his teeth. His muscles flex and give, eyes fixed on the vampires neck. His wolf is in control right now. Were it not, his sister’s tears would have been more than enough to sway him. His wolf doesn’t see Nova as a person; all it sees is someone who just hurt Stiles, someone who hurt its mate.

Scrambling to my feet, I lunge forward, throwing myself between Nova and Derek. “No,” I say sharply, chest heaving. Derek growls a soft warning before trying to walk around me. I move in front of him again, descending to my knees so that my eyes are level with his. “Please don’t kill him. I know that he hurt Stiles, but it wasn’t his fault and Stiles is fine. Nova healed him.” I keep my tone steady and even, looking deep into his crimson eyes.

“If he wants to kill me, let him. I deserve it,” Nova mutters, eyes fixed on the pavement. I hate that he thinks so little of himself, that he doesn’t even care if he lives or dies. Guilt is a powerful incentive, and Nova’s got it in spades.

Derek looks over at Stiles, studying his partially hidden frame. He looks fine, the blood drying on his neck the only thing to say otherwise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d just say he was asleep. Yes, Nova made a mistake, but he didn’t actually kill Stiles. And he could have.

Instead of calming Derek’s wolf, the sight of his mate passed out on the pavement makes him even angrier. Eyes narrowed, he turns back to Nova, seemingly determined to kill the vampire for the pain he caused Stiles. Fear slices through me, sharp and deep. I can’t let Derek do this. Yes, there are people who deserve to die, but Nova isn’t one of them.

“If you kill him, I’ll never forgive you.” Derek ignores me, eyes fixed on Nova. Infuriated, I grab his face, burying my fingers in his fur. Breaking his eye contact with Nova, I force him to look at me. “I am asking you not to do this, as my mate. Do not hurt him.” Derek cocks his head to the side, studying me for a moment. Then he eases forward and brushes a tear from my cheeks with his cold nose. I giggle, throwing my arms around him. “Thank you,” I whisper, voice muffled by his fur. He noses my neck, scenting me. It’s oddly intimate, filling my body with heat.

After a minute or so, Derek pulls away from me and shifts back, standing up and shrugging on his jeans. Nova lifts his gaze as Derek closes the distance between them. “Touch one of my mates again and I’ll have your fucking head,” Derek says wrathfully, eyes flashing red.

Nova looks deep into Derek’s eyes and then turns to look at me, brows furrowed. I saved him and he has no idea why. “I’ll do you one better, wolf,” he says as he walks over to stand before me.

“Nova,” Isa says, warning in her voice.

He glances over at her. “I don’t do this lightly, Isabel.” She nods, fisting a hand in Max’s hair. Nova catches his best friends gaze and graces her with a soft smile, reassuring her. It’s kind, but I can’t help but see it as a lie. Nova isn’t okay, that much plain to see.

“What are you…” I trail of as Nova turns back to me, coal-black eyes slicing through me like diamonds. He lifts his hand to his mouth, pricking his finger with one of his fangs. Brows furrowed, I watch as a droplet of blood wells to the surface. He reaches out and brushes it down my forehead, between my eyebrows. The cold touch of his finger makes me shiver

Nova catches my gaze and holds me in place. “I swear to protect you and those you love. This is my blood oath. This is my truth,” he says fiercely. I swallow against the dryness in my throat, completely caught up in his eyes. There is a sadness in them, it’s heartbreaking. “You’ve saved my life…and I may never forgive you for it.” The trance breaks as he turns away from me.

“Nova,” Max pleads, tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing him in pain hurts her; I know how that feels, to love someone so much that you’d rather be hurt than see them in pain. “None of this was your fault. Don’t punish yourself for something you have no control over.” She does her best to try and reassure him, but her words have the opposite affect. Nova drops his gaze, clenching his hands into tight fists.

“Exactly! I have no control!” he says irately. I want to take him into my arms and hold him. I don’t know much about him, but I know enough. Only a good man would torture himself like this. Max closes the distance between them and reaches out to touch him. Nova pulls away before her fingers make contact, tears streaming down his face.

“Baby, please,” she whispers.

Nova ignores her, turning to face me. “You still determined to fight?”

“Yes,” I say automatically, glancing over my shoulder. I watch as Derek gently lifts Stiles into his arms and buries his face in the elemental’s neck, relishing in his scent. My stomach clenches, heart throbbing in my chest. There’s no question about it, I’d fight for them. I’d die for them.

“Good…because you just leveled up,” Nova says stridently. “When you need me, just call. I’ll fucking destroy them.” He flashes his fangs and disappears, leaving me with an oddly empty feeling in the pit of my stomach. I stare at the place where he was just standing, trying to hold back my tears. I’ve never seen a person more in need of saving…a brutal young man with the heart of a child.

“You had him guarding my mate, seriously, Isabel?” Derek asks incredulously, pulling me out of my own head. I turn to face them. Max is crying in Isa’s arms, her face buried in Isabel’s neck. Derek is standing a few feet in front of them, cradling Stiles gently in his arms.

Isa glares at her brother, tightening her hold on Max. “I don’t know anyone more loyal than Nova. I asked him to watch over her and he did!” Isa yells, struggling to hold back tears. Watching her break down is unsettling, but in a beautiful sort of way. “Do you have any idea how painful it is for a vampire to go without blood? Charles described it as someone shoving a hot poker down your throat!” She angrily brushes the tears from her eyes, hiccupping softly. “I should have told him he could feed…it’s my fault…my fault…”

Derek closes the distance between himself and his sister, reaching out to cup her face. The love in his eyes is unmistakable. Gingerly, he lifts her gaze. “You couldn’t have known. I’m sure he doesn’t blame you,” he says soothingly, all the anger gone from his voice.

“He should,” Isa mutters, fresh tears running down her face. Derek leans down to place a kiss on his sister’s forehead. She clenches her eyes shut, clinging to Max like a lifeline.

“Take your wife home, Isa,” Derek whispers. “Get some sleep.” He pulls his hand back and brushes a kiss along Max’s temple. Isabel smiles, loving the fact that Derek already cares for her mate. “We’ll call you in the morning.”

“Okay,” Isa says shakily, smiling ever so slightly. “I love you.” The words are frayed and broken, worried. Derek picks up on his sister’s fear instantly, pulling her and Max into a hug. It’s a little awkward, seeing as Derek has Stiles wrapped around him, but it does its job. The shaking in Isa’s hands stops and her breathing eases.

Derek brushes a finger down her nose, making her giggle. “I love you too.” The words settle on my shoulder, making me feel guilty and needy and sad…all at the same time. I wonder if he will ever say those words to me. I don’t know why he would, but I can’t help wanting to hear them.

Isa tucks an arm around Max’s waist and leads her wife over to their car. They both get in, Max tucking her knees up to her chest and burying her tear-stained face. I exhale, wishing Nova hadn’t left the way that he did. He has no idea how much Max loves him.

Once their car has disappeared, Derek turns to face me. I don’t know what to say or what to do. I ran away from them when I should have stayed. I abandoned the two people I care about most, caused them pain. All the while, convinced I was sparing them. I open my mouth to apologize, but Derek’s lips are on mine before I can make a sound.

He kisses me softly, leisurely. It’s like he’s determined to memorize the way my lips move, the way that I taste. I close my eyes and melt into him…or rather Stiles. Derek cups my face, fingers wrapping around the nape of my neck. I shiver, loving the scrape of his facial hair against my skin. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss. Before I know what’s happening, I’m crying.

He pulls back, brows furrowed with worry. “Oh God, baby, I’m sorry,” he says anxiously. I never thought I’d hear him call me baby again. The mere sound of it on his lips is enough to ruin me. “Did I hurt you?” The fear in his voice cuts me deep. Why would he think that he hurt me?

“No…but I hurt you…” I mutter, voice breaking.

He puts a hand under my chin, lifting my gaze. I break under the weight of his gorgeous green eyes, burying my face in Stiles’ back. Derek wraps an arm around me, holding me as I sob into Stiles’ soft t-shirt. God, I screwed everything up. Derek probably hates me now and Stiles…he’ll probably never even look at me again. And I deserve it, all of it.

“Let’s go inside,” Derek says gently, gesturing towards the motel. I nod curtly, turning to hide my tears. My hands shake as I grab my purse and bag from the pavement, reaching into my purse to fetch my room key. I can feel Derek at my back as I open the door, slipping inside the dimly lit room.

He steps carefully around me, walking over to the bed. I watch, heart in my throat, as he pulls back the comforter and lays Stiles down, tucking the blankets around his small frame. Seeing the state Stiles is in makes me want to scream until my ears bleed; the skin hangs off of his bones, dark circles rimming his closed eyes. I try to take a breath, but my throat closes up as I stare down at him.

“He…he’s so…I…shouldn’t have…I’m sorry…so sorry…” I stumble across my words, sobs racking my body. Derek crosses the room and pulls me into his arms, tucking me tightly up against his chest. I clench my eyes shut, hating myself for hurting them.

“I forgive you,” Derek whispers, making me cry harder. “And I’m sure Stiles will forgive you too.” He chuckles softly, “You could blow up the world and he would still worship the ground you walk on.” I smile, unable to stop myself. Derek doesn’t talk much, but he always knows exactly what to say.

He pulls back gingerly, but doesn’t remove the hand that’s buried in my hair. I look up tentatively, swallowing. He graces me with a small smile, “What’d you say we get some sleep?” I nod and he pulls his hand back, stripping off his jeans. The breath in my lungs catches and I blush feverishly, making Derek laugh.

“Fucking werewolves and their nudity,” I say sardonically as I strip off my jeans and unclip my bra, pulling it out from under my shirt. Tucking my arms under my breasts, I turn to face Derek. He eyes me hungrily from the bed, one arm tucked under Stiles’ head.

I walk over and slide beneath the covers, careful not to touch Stiles. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have and, right now, he looks so close to breaking. Tentatively, I lower my head down on the pillow, shifting so that I am facing the wall instead of Stiles and Derek.

After a moment or so Derek growls softly, startling me. I bite my lip, worrying it between my teeth. He probably just realized how much me hates me. I wouldn’t blame him if he kicked me out of his pack for abandoning him and Stiles.

“How am I supposed to sleep when all I can smell is sadness and guilt?” Derek asks calmly, voice absent any anger. I clutch my pillow tighter, unsure what to say. Maybe I should go ask for another room. Derek deserves a good night sleep. Is this his way of asking me to leave?

“I’m sorry. I can go get another room if-”

“Dammit, Lydia! Will you please just turn around and look at me?” he says, deep voice quickly losing its potency and settling on a plea.

Brushing the tears from my eyes, I twist around to face him. His sharp eyes bore deep into me, making me want things I’ve never wanted before. He’s looking at me the way that he looks at Stiles, all devotion and adoration. It’s how I knew he was in love with Stiles in the first place.  

“You’re okay, baby. You’re safe,” he whispers, making my heart skip. Fear leeches out of me; I had no idea I was so scared. I close my eyes, listening to his voice. “No one is going to hurt you. I’ll protect you. You’re my mate and I’d die before I let anything happen to you.” My muscles gradually unclench, enabling me to relax for the first time in what feels like forever. He continues to reassure me that I am safe until my heartbeat returns to normal.

I open my eyes and he smiles softly. “Thank you,” I mutter, snuggling deeper into my pillow. I am hyper-aware of Stiles’ body, extra carful not to touch him. He’s so frail, looking as if one wrong move could break his bones.

Derek studies me for a moment, brows drawn. “He’s gonna be okay.” I nod, chewing on my bottom lip as I study Stiles. “He just passed out. I can hear his heartbeat. It’s as strong and stubborn as ever.”

“Good…that’s good…” I say unsteadily, nodding.

Derek frowns at me, gritting his teeth. “You can touch him,” he whispers, reaching out to brush his fingers down Stiles’ cheek. Stiles shudders, unconsciously leaning into the warmth of Derek’s touch.

I exhale unevenly. It’s not that I don’t want to touch him, because I do. I’d like nothing better than to wrap my arms around him, holding him until I’m sure that he’s really okay. But I can’t. I don’t deserve to touch him. Not after what I’ve done to him. He looks like a walking corpse and it’s my fault.

“No. I…look what I did to him…” I clench my eyes shut, berating myself.

Derek growls sharply, gaining my attention. I look up and his red eyes tear into me, demanding I listen. “Yes, you screwed up. You hurt him,” he says angrily. But, in seconds, the anger in his eyes disappears, replaced with warmth and forgiveness. He glances down at Stiles and then back up at me. “So fix it.”

I brush the tears from my eyes, hiccupping. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Derek smiles lovingly. “You hold him,” he says, gesturing to Stiles. “You and I both know how much he needs to be touched…to be held.” I nod, hesitantly shifting closer to Stiles. He sighs when I place an arm on his chest, settling my head on his shoulder. The noise comforts me, reminding me that he’s okay…that he’s safe. I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of his heartbeat under my hand.

Derek places his hand over mine, lacing our fingers together, right over Stiles’ heart. I clench my teeth, overcome with how much I love both of them. They didn’t give up on me, even though they probably should’ve.

“Thank you…for coming after me and…for keeping him safe,” I whisper, opening my eyes to look over at Derek. He blinks sleepily and growls deep in his throat, making me shiver.

“Always, baby…always.” The promise in his voice is unmistakable. I close my eyes and let the sound of their breathing lull me to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter this time! :) The Dydia feels hit me, full force. Haha. Please let me know what you thought of it, I'd love to hear from you!


	22. Chapter 22

I wake up slowly, coaxed out of my dreams by the feel of someone tonguing my stomach. I can’t tell whether it’s Stiles or Derek, but I don’t really care. He circles my belly button, making me shiver. A warm hand wraps around my hip, arching my back provocatively. My heart speeds up as he works his way down to my hip, breathing hot against my skin. He rolls his tongue over my hipbone, making me gasp.

“She’s definitely awake now,” Derek says with a deep chuckle, letting me know that Stiles is the one laving me with his tongue. I shudder, picturing him leaning over me, amber eyes heavy with lust. I want to open my eyes and looks at him, but I keep them shut…terrified that none of this is real.

Stiles runs his tongue along the seam of my panties and I flush, chest heaving. He laughs wickedly, moving up to circle my belly button again. His hand shifts down to cup my butt, palming it gently. I turn my head, exhaling.

I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like this, giving no thought to their own pleasure. Every boyfriend I have ever had has had one thing on their mind, when they were going to get off. I was just a nice thing to look at while they were doing that, nothing more. They didn’t give a shit about me. But, unlike those other boys, Stiles is in love with me. He’s taking his sweet time, seemingly determined to make me moan.

“You gonna join me?” Stiles asks, breath fanning out over my skin. Before waiting for an answer, he kisses my knee, slowly working his way up the inside of my thigh. His movements are leisurely and deliberate, maddening. I roll my head back against my pillow, struggling to keep still.

“As content as I am to watch you make her writhe…” Derek trails off and before I know what’s happening, he has his mouth on my breast. He suckles my fabric-covered nipple and I moan, arching into the heat of his mouth. His hand slides up under my shirt, cupping my other breast. He pinches my nipple and I gasp, clenching my eyes shut.

Fuck, this is incredible. My life has been a goddamn lie. Happiness isn’t getting a degree and finding a good job, it’s having Derek Hale toying with my nipples while Stiles Stilinski tortures me with his tongue. If I die now, I won’t even care. This seems like a pretty good way to go out.

Stiles slips a finger under the hem of panties and eases them down. I let him take them off, loving how slowly he does it. I expect to be embarrassed, as I have been with other boyfriends, but the feeling never comes. Stiles trails a hand down my stomach and I arch into his touch, biting my lip.

Derek chuckles as he moves to left nipple, wetting it as he did the previous one. I fist my hands in the covers as he cups the one he was just suckling, circling the nipple with his callused fingers. It’s torture, perfect torture.

Stiles kisses his way from my hip, down to my pussy. I open my legs wider, practically begging for him. “We can stop whenever you want, Liddy,” Stiles says softly, placing a kiss on my abdomen.

“Stop…and I’ll fucking kill you…” I say breathlessly, making him laugh.

Derek pulls back and I whimper unconsciously, wanting him back in place. He chuckles, kissing his way up my neck. “So…fucking…demanding…” he says in between kisses. His touch disappears for a fraction of a second, but then he blows across my wet nipples. I arch upward, gasping pleadingly.

“Beautiful,” Stiles whispers, running a hand down the back of my leg. He cups the inside of my knee and bends my leg, anchoring himself and me.

“Very…” Derek says, running his thumb across one of my nipples. “Stiles.”  
 The elemental lifts his head, sending hot breath up my stomach.

“Sourwolf?” Stiles says playfully, making me smile. Derek growls deep in his throat and I shiver in response. God, I missed them.

“You do know how to get a girl off, don’t you?” Derek asks stoically. I giggle, stomach caving with the loss of air. Stiles snorts incredulously and, though I can’t see it, I know that he is glaring up at Derek.

“Dude, I’m fucking magic…in and out of bed,” Stiles says smoothly. Derek bursts out laughing and the sound curls in my chest, purring happily. Derek doesn’t laugh often, but more often than not it’s at something Stiles said. Stiles has a way with him, coaxing the beast into a man.

“What are you gonna do, idiot, make it rain?” Derek asks with a dry chuckle.

“Since when is that a bad thing? It means money, which is fantastic. I could also literally make it rain, which, let’s be honest, would be fucking sexy. Oh, and in a figurative since, I’m all for getting Lydia nice and wet,” Stiles says, voice supple and velvety. I want to yell and him for being so graphic, but it’s really doing something for me. My body flushes with heat and my throat dries up.

“Wow. Even your dirty talk is wordy,” Derek mutters sardonically. Stiles either flips him off or sticks out his tongue, because Derek laughs appreciatively.

I lick my lips, loving their banter but hating that they are bantering over my mostly-naked body. Sure, it’s fucking adorable, but right now is so not the right time. My nipples are hard and my pussy is throbbing, my body aching for touch. And instead of doing just that, they are arguing.

I open my eyes and lift my head, tucking my elbows up to support my upper body. Derek is sitting next to me, laughing. While Stiles is seated in between my legs, animatedly listing every single dirty word that he knows. I exhale, rolling my eyes. Could they get any cuter?

“You two forget I was here or something?” I ask playfully. Stiles turns to look down at me, blushing beautifully. His amber eyes scan my body slowly, taking in every inch of me. I shiver under the heat of his gaze.

“Sorry, Liddy,” he mutters, smirking. I melt, unaware how much I missed hearing him call me that. He makes it sound so special, the way it rolls off his tongue.

“Prove it,” I say, arching an eyebrow.

Derek chuckles, reaching over to bury a hand in Stiles’ unruly hair. “Take it slow…tease her,” he whispers and I watch as he leads Stiles down to my pussy, all the while his green eyes trailing down Stiles’ body. He wraps a hand around his hard cock as Stiles teases me with his tongue, careful never to touch my clit.

It’s maddening, watching Derek jack off as Stiles toys with me. Derek keeps his other hand in Stiles’ hair, not holding him in place, but simply reminding the elemental that he is in control. I glance down at Derek’s cock, chewing on my bottom lip. He’s fucking gorgeous, thick and uncut. I smirk, wondering what it would feel like inside of me. Lifting my gaze, I realize Derek is staring down at me. I blush, embarrassed that he caught me gaping at him.

“Can I?” I ask breathlessly, nodding towards his hard cock. He shakes his head, severely disappointing me. I open my mouth to ask why, but he’s kissing me before I can say a word. I open my mouth, twisting my tongue around his. His lips are harsh and demanding, but his hand on my neck is gentle. I bite his lip and he growls at me. I feel Stiles shudder, tightening the hand he has wrapped around my hip. Someone’s got a serious growling kink. 

Stiles finally gets tired of teasing and gets down to business, tonguing my clit leisurely. I gasp into Derek’s mouth, arching up into Stiles. Magic in bed was an understatement. Stiles has a talented little tongue, must be from all of the talking. He suckles my clit, making me whimper. My body is on fire, a flurry of sparks. I come hard, Derek swallowing my moans as I dig my nails into his back.

Derek pulls back, leaving me utterly breathless. He catches my gaze, brushing his thumb across my eyebrow. My chest is heaving, head a fuzzy mess of Dopamine and fire. “This is about you, not us, alright?” he asks, but it isn’t really much of a question. I nod, brows furrowed in confusion. Are they doing this because they think I’m going to leave again? Guilt coils in the pit of my stomach. Derek cups my face in his hand, lifting my gaze. “We’re doing this because we want to. It’s not a ploy to keep you here.” Stiles pulls back, looking up at me worriedly.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed,” I say awkwardly, pursing my lips.

“No, you shouldn’t have. Now take this off,” Derek says, gesturing to my t-shirt. “I want to see those gorgeous breasts of yours.” I sit up and shrug off my shirt, blushing as my hair falls over my shoulders. Nervous, I look up at them.

“Did I say beautiful, because I meant exquisite…” Stiles says, voice deep with lust. I swallow, looking him over slowly. He’s wearing black boxer-briefs that say ‘GET COCKY’ on them, hard cock pressing insistency up against the words.

“Cute,” I say with a giggle, gesturing to his underwear.

He flashes me a dashing smile. “Lydia here has a thing for underwear,” he says to Derek, who chuckles. I huff, glaring down at Stiles.

“I wasn’t talking about your underwear,” I say, trying and failing to remain serious. In the end, a giggle gives me away. Stiles arches an eyebrow sardonically, mouth pinched in mock anger.

“I’ll have you know, Little Stiles is anything but cute. Majestic, yes…cute, hell no,” he says proudly. Derek and I burst out laughing, me clutching his arm as Stiles glares at both of us. “Oh, shut up!” He smirks, amber eyes alight with life; the darkness the inhabited them yesterday is gone, disappeared.

“Majestic? Like a horse?” Derek asks, laughing. I watch his abs flex and give, wishing he would let me run my tongue across every dip and wane.

“Fuck you, wolfie!” Stiles growls, making Derek laugh even harder. “Switch me places…I always wanted to play with those.” He gestures happily to my breasts, a huge smile on his face. I roll my eyes, watching them switch places. Derek moves to kneel between my legs and Stiles throws a leg over me, settling low on my hips. He bends, kissing his way down my neck.

Derek is on me before I have a chance to take another breath. Where Stiles was slow and soft, Derek is fierce and rough. Every flick of his tongue is practiced. He grabs my left leg and places it on his shoulder, delving in deeper. I arch into his mouth, fisting my hands in the sheets. He growls hungrily, nipping the inside of my leg. I shiver, breath hitching.

“To hell with Scott, I just found my new best friends,” Stiles says wickedly, lowering his mouth to lave one of my breasts. I gasp, reaching up to bury my hands in his messy hair. He pulls back with a laugh; “If he dies we’ll write ‘replaced by boobs’ on his headstone.” Derek chuckles, hot breath sending shivers down my spine.

“You are such a dumbass,” Derek says dryly, before lowering his head again. I bite my lip, tipping my head back against the pillows. He circles his tongue around, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.

“I’ll have you know I am highly in-”

“Stiles, if you don’t stop talking and start sucking, my boobs are going to leave you for Scott,” I say, one eyebrow arched proudly. Stiles gapes at me for half a second, then throws his head back and laughs. I giggle as he returns to my breasts, sucking one as he fondles the other.

Stiles’ mouth is fucking perfection…teasing and hot. I fist my hands in his hair and pull his mouth up to mine. He chuckles, kissing me heatedly. His tongue dances around mine, lips twisting and turning. His kiss is all Stiles, playful and easygoing. Where Derek pushed, Stiles gives.

I come again, throwing my head back. Stiles steals the moan from my mouth, swallowing it eagerly. Derek eases me down, tongue making lazy strokes around my sensitive clit. I exhale as Stiles kisses his way down my throat, chest heaving. I’m coved in a thin sheen of sweat; head a flurry of cotton candy and sparks. My muscles give, hands falling back down to the bed.

Derek pulls back, wiping his mouth. He flashes me a wolfish grin and then lowers his gaze, eyeing Stiles’ ass hungrily. I smirk satedly, reaching up to run my nails up Stiles’ spine. He arches under my touch, unconsciously grinding his hard cock against my stomach. I fist a hand in his hair and pull him up for another kiss, reaching my other hand between us. Trailing a finger down his happy trail, I reach into his boxer-briefs and pull out his cock. Stiles groans as I stroke him, slow and strong. Derek’s eyes flash red as he watches us.

Stiles pinches my nipple and I whimper, running a nail down the underside of Stiles’ cock. He growls at me, capturing my lips once more. His kiss turns frantic, domineering. I thumb the sensitive tip of his cock, adoring the way he arches into my touch. Wind circles around us, responding to Stiles’ emotions.

Wondering why Derek hasn’t joined me yet, I pull away from Stiles’ kiss and glance over his shoulder at him. My heart surges when I see his teeth, razor sharp and ominous. But I’m not scared, just surprised. I guess I should have expected this; we are Derek’s mates, after all. He steps off of the bed and turns away from us, shaking his head no. I realize he must have heard the spike in my heart rate and mistook it as fear. 

I let go of Stiles’ cock, placing my hand on his hip. He lifts his head, brows furrowed. When he sees my face he instantly turns his head to look at Derek. Concern and love cut across his face, making his amber eyes burn.

“Derek,” I say softly, trying to coax him back into bed. His shoulders tighten, jaw clenched. In seconds, he goes from completely relaxed to coiled like a fucking snake. “Derek, honey, I’m not scared of you…you just surprised me is all.”

“We aren’t scared of you,” Stiles says sternly. Something in his tone of voice tells me that they’ve had this argument before.

Derek continues to glare at the far wall, fists shaking at his sides. Stiles gets off of me and I sit up, kneeling next to him on the bed. It’s easy to see that Derek is in a power struggle with his wolf, who wants to mark his mates. For some reason the two of them aren’t on the same page about it.

“I’m gonna go take a shower,” Derek growls. Then, before Stiles and I can say a word, he disappears behind the bathroom door. We stare at it for a moment, anxious and confused.

“He thinks that if he bites us, he’ll lose control and hurt us,” Stiles mutters, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. I nod, pulling a knee up to my chest.

“Sounds like you and I need bring out that wolf of his, see what he has to say about this,” I say wickedly. Stiles glances over at me, mirroring my smirk. We both know that Derek’s wolf is dangerous, but not to us. Werewolves never harm their mates, never.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Stiles says with a smile.

I giggle, rolling my eyes. “You want some help with that?” I ask, gesturing to his cock. Unlike Derek, Stiles is cut, his cock long and thin. Stiles glances down at himself and then back up at me, grinning like a kid with a bag full of Snickers.

“You never have to ask, Liddy. Touch me whenever and however you want,” he says sincerely. I crawl over to him and place a hand on his chest, pushing him down onto the bed. He shudders as I lean down to kiss his neck. I kiss my way down his chest, swiping my tongue across one of his nipples.

He shudders. “No one’s ever done that to me before,” he says distractedly, aching into my mouth. I lift my head, catching his gaze.

“Well, No One needs their ass kicked.“

He laughs, filling my body with warmth. He buries a hand in my hair and pulls me up for a soft kiss. “I fucking love you,” he whispers, breath brushing my lips. The reverence in his voice strips me down.

I pull back, running my fingers across his jaw. “I love you too, beautiful.” He closes his eyes, betraying how much he loves it when I call him beautiful.

While his eyes are still closed, I shift down and take his cock into my mouth. He gasps, clenching the hand he has buried in my hair. I tongue his sensitive head, wrapping a hand around him. The dual assault of my hand and my tongue has him coming in minutes. He arches his back and groans, wind gliding over our bodies.  

I pull my head back, wipe my mouth, and crawl up into his arms. He tucks me up against his chest, trailing his fingers up and down my back. I never in a million years did I think I would end up here, naked in Stiles Stilinksi’s arms. But, to hell with my old plans…I wouldn’t give this up for anything. Stiles is mine and no one is going to take him away from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought you guys deserved some happy after this week's episode. I am so pissed off at Scott! Anyways...I hope you liked this chapter. I am not well practiced at writing sex scenes, but I think I did a pretty good job. ;)
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, lovelies! You are the best!


	23. Chapter 23

“How long do you think he’s gonna keep this up?” Stiles asks as we watch Derek put my bag into the Camaro. We’re standing a ways away from the car, but not far enough to hinder Derek’s enhanced hearing.

“I donno. Let’s just give him some time,” I say, lacing my fingers through Stiles’. He nods, eyes narrowed as he studies Derek. The wolf has been ignoring us for the past hour, responding only with short clipped answers and angry glares. He seems intent on keeping us at a distance.

I exhale, watching Stiles’ patience slip. He shuffles his feet, clenching the hand that I’m not holding. “How much time, exactly?” he asks.

“You’re the one with a masters degree in Derek Hale,” I say, flashing him a wicked smirk. He scoffs, rolling his eyes. I giggle, pulling him towards the Camaro. He lets me lead him, abet a little begrudgingly. Derek takes the driver’s and we get into the back. Stiles lies down and puts his head in my lap. I card my fingers through his hair as Derek starts the car.

We drive in silence for a while, Stiles staring at the seat in front of us. Before long, he starts to get jittery. I briefly wonder how long he can physically go without talking. Awake, I’ve never seen him make it past twenty minutes. Eventually words just burst out of him, jumbled and pent-up.

“So…what happened after Nova bit me?” he asks, right on queue. I glance down at him, watching as he shifts to look up at me. His brows are furrowed with curiosity, concern gleaming in his amber eyes.

“Well, Max talked him down then he told us just about the saddest child abuse story ever. Apparently, his was bitten when he was nine and his parents tried to kill him.” Stiles grits his teeth, pity cutting across his face. “He let the vampire in him take control and it went rabid, killing whoever it wanted.”

“God,” Stiles mutters, running a hand down his jaw.

“Yeah. Anyways, he eventually realized what he was doing and regained control. But he was still young and didn’t know how to compel yet. So he hunted criminals and turned tricks to make money.” I swallow hard, my throat dry and scratchy. I can’t imagine growing up like that, forced to use my body as currency.

“Is that why his vampire side is so strong?” Stiles asks.

I nod solemnly. “After he told us everything, he released us from his compulsion. Then Derek went after him and-”

“You attacked him!” Stiles says irately, turning to glare at Derek. The air around us becomes denser, colder. I trail my fingers down Stiles’ face, wanting to calm him.

“No. I didn’t. But I damn sure wanted to,” Derek growls, eyes firmly fixed on the road. He clenches his hands around the steering wheel reflexively. And, though I can’t see them, I’m sure that his eyes are red. “You can thank Lydia for the vampire’s life. I was well within my rights to end him.”

Stiles looks back up at me, expression a little torn. Yes, Derek had every right to kill the vampire inside of Nova…but not Nova himself. The young man with the lip rings and the bad attitude didn’t bite Stiles, the vampire did.

“Derek wasn’t in control,” I say, looking over at him. Derek grits his teeth, furious with himself and me. “It wasn’t his fault. Wolves protect their mates. You were bleeding on the ground and Derek’s wolf reacted.” Instead of soothing him, as I had hoped it would do, my explanation just upsets him further. He growls deep in his throat, agitatedly running a hand through his hair.

“You were just trying to protect me. It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles says softly, forgiving him just like that. Derek closes his eyes for a fraction of a second, reveling in Stiles’ voice. But his muscles are still tight, coiled with guilt.

“After I talked Derek’s wolf down, Nova did this thing…” I trail off, unsure what exactly the vampire did to me.

“Did he hurt you?” Stiles asks heatedly. I shake my head and he settles.

“It was really weird. He cut himself, then he drew on my forehead with his blood and started making these-”

“Oh my God, he made a blood oath to you!” Stiles shouts, cutting me off mid-sentence. I cock my head to the side, brows drawn. I have no idea what a blood oath and I have no idea if that’s what Nova was doing. All I know is that it was sketchy as all hell.

“Maybe, I donno. He promised to protect me and those that I love, said that if I needed him he would come,” I say, running though Nova’s words. I can still feel his coal-black eyes on me, digging into me in a manner both intrusive and comforting. Everything about him was threatening…except when it wasn’t.

Stiles gapes at me, mouth open. “Do you have any idea what that means?” he asks, voice a little frayed around the edges.

“Nope,” I mutter.

He groans the way he does whenever someone gets a comic book fact wrong, as if he or she personally offended him. “Vampires can only ever make one blood oath. It’s powerful black magic that was used to bind them to the witches that originally created them.”

“Okay, but what exactly is a blood oath?” I ask, still confused.

“He’s bound to you now, until the day he dies. You said he promised to protect you and those you love?” Stiles asks, running through conclusions in his head. I watch him wring his hands, loving the intelligence in his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s what he said.”

“Then that’s what he’ll do. You won’t have control over him, the way the witches did, because he didn’t swear to obey you. But he will keep us safe, protect us and fight beside us until the day he dies.” He looks up at me, eyes wide with awe. I guess it is kind of ironic, a banshee saving a vampire, a death omen sparing someone who is already dead.

“I guess that sort of makes sense, but what does that mean? All Nova said was that I leveled up, whatever that means.” Stiles laughs and I arch eyebrow, perplexed.

“It’s a gamer reference, leveling up. It’s when you get stronger…get better weapons. In a way, I guess that’s what Nova gave you, a weapon.”

“So basically, he gave me license to unleash him on my enemies? That’s super fucked up,” I say scornfully. “He could have just said thank you. I’m always down for a nice card…hey thank for saving my life, Lydia, you’re the best.”

Stiles laughs, grabbing my hand. He brushes a kiss along my knuckles and then places my hand on his chest, all the while holding my gaze. “You’re adorable,” he whispers, making me blush. “And, yes, that’s exactly what he did. You tell him who to protect and he’ll protect them, with his life. Blood oaths bind vampires to a task, to a truth.”

“So if I asked him to go after my mother, he would,” I say tentatively.

Stiles nods. “And if you did, I’m sure he’d slaughter half of your mother’s coven. But, I doubt he could take her on himself. He’s strong, but she’s…”

“Psycho,” I mutter, finishing his sentence. He chuckles humorlessly. “You don’t know the half of it.” Fear slices through me. I can still see her beautiful face, framed by fiery hair the same shade as mine. “She’s gonna kill us. She’s gonna kill all of us.” I clench my eyes shut, chest hitching. She hurt me, nails digging into my neck. And I…I told her to fuck off. God, what’ve I done? She’s going to kill everyone I love because I was rude, because I denied her. I screwed everything up.

“Lydia,” Derek says sternly, pulling me out of my own head. I pry my eyes open, fists clenched tight. I’m curled up in Stiles’ lap, my head on his chest. He has a hand buried in my hair, pressing me closer. “Your mother won’t touch you. You’re safe, baby.” I let his words run down my spine, sink into my bones.

“I…I…don’t care what she does to me!” I yell, tears streaming down my face. “I just don’t want her to hurt you, either of you! Or Allison…or Scott…or Isaac…or…” I trail off, sobbing into Stiles’ shirt.

“Derek is a Hale alpha, Liddy. He’s basically werewolf royalty. If he calls the other packs, they’ll come. And I…” Stiles glances up at Derek. “Pull over,” he says sharply. Derek complies and we all get out of the car, turning to face a massive expanse of abandoned forest. “I can do a lot more than pretty flowers and thunderstorms.”

Stiles steps away from us and holds a hand out. He forms it into a fist and slowly unfurls it. The ground starts to shake. Derek shifts to stand behind me, ever my silent protector. I watch, fear and wonder alive inside of me, as Stiles splits the earth. A massive cavern forms before him, uprooted trees fall like paper dolls, smacking the ground thunderously.

“My God,” Derek mutters, watching as lightning strikes the ground, setting the ravaged trees on fire. The flames blaze high, burning the still-wet wood in a way that natural fire never would. It looks almost alive, consuming everything in its path. Smoke circles around us, moving with the ice-cold wind. I shiver, pressing my back against Derek. He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close.

Stiles’ muscles are tight; his outstretched hand is palm up, finger curled into an awkward and painful looking position. It’s incredible, there’s no disputing that fact. But it’s also terrifying. Stiles is breaking all laws of nature, and yet his is nature itself. I bite my lips, a little scared.

The shaking in the ground gets worse, threatening to knock me off my feet. Derek steadies me, watching Stiles as the flames rage higher. Hail starts to fall, slicing across my skin like little razors. Gasping, I turn and tuck myself up against Derek. He curls his body around mine, shielding me.

“Stiles!” he yells over the sound of the slitting earth and the toppling trees. Stiles doesn’t respond, he doesn’t even move. It’s like he can’t hear us, like he doesn’t even know that we’re here.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask frantically, clinging to Derek.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing! You’ve got to be kidding me! He’s out of control!”

“Elemenals are a force of nature, Lydia, they have no control,” Derek says tonelessly, clenching me tighter. A lump forms in my throat, making it hard to breathe. What the hell is he talking about, no control? All supernatural have some semblance of control, at least up until a point.

“What do you mean?” I ask, swallowing anxiously.

Derek takes my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. His green eyes bore into me, heavy and insistent. “You don’t fight the hurricane, Lydia. You weather it!” he says fiercely, cradling my face.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I yell, tears brimming in my eyes.

“It means…we wait.” He’s so calm that it’s unsettling.

“That’s completely insane! He could destroy half of the state by the time that happens! What if he hurts someone?” I turn to run to Stiles, to stop him somehow, but Derek grabs me. He pulls me back into his arms, caging me.

“We just have to trust that he won’t. Elementals aren’t like werewolves and vampires; they don’t have something other than themselves inside. Stiles isn’t being forced to do this, he wants to do this,” Derek says forcefully. “He’ll stop when he’s done. Interfere and he might accidentally kill you.”

I slam a fist down on his chest, livid. “Fine! But I’m so not okay with this!” I shout, hair whipping around my face.

“It’s not your choice, baby,” Derek says as he cups the back of my head, pressing me into his chest. I bury my face in his shirt, doing my best to ignore the sound of the sound of trees splitting and wind screaming.

We stand against the Camaro, hail raining down on us, for what feels like an hour. Then, all of the sudden it stops, everything stops. I turn in Derek’s arms, watching as Stiles slumps to the ground, passed out clean. The forest around us is a fucking mess, looking like a landslide and a fire hit it at the same time.

I dash over to Stiles, followed closely by Derek. Crouching down, Derek lifts him into his arms. I reach out to touch his face, startled when he shocks me, a little zap of painful electricity. Glancing down, I realize that he’s doing the same thing to Derek. But the wolf seems unfazed, ignoring the pain.

“It’s normal Lydia. Just be glad he’s not burning me,” Derek says as he walks toward the car. I follow him, getting in first. He set Stiles down, grimacing as another wave of electricity rolls over the elemental. It sparks up, dancing across his skin as Derek releases him.

I study Stiles as Derek gets into the car and starts her up. “Why’d you let him do that if you knew that’s what would happen?” I ask, voice barely a whisper. I want to take Stiles into my arms, to hold him, but I can’t.

“Honestly,” Derek says, “I wanted to see what he was capable of. I’ve read about elementals, but I’ve never seen one in action.”

“So what, you were just curious!” I yell, wanting to hit him again.

Derek glances back at me, eyes steady. “I would never hurt him, Lydia. You know that. No one lives out here; it’s a controlled environment. I had to see what we were dealing with.”

I drop my gaze, nodding. As much as I hate to admit it, that does make sense. “Fine, but you could have told me. You could have warned me or something.”

“I’m sorry,” Derek says sincerely.

We drive in silence for a few minutes, my eyes never leaving Stiles. Electricity continues to dance across his skin, shocking everything that touches it. “How long does it last?” I ask, inching closer to Stiles. “Is he in pain?”

“It should stop when he wakes up and, no, he’s not in pain. And, before you ask, he should wake up within the next half an hour or so,” Derek says with a soft, reassuring smile. I exhale slowly, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “He’s fine, Lydia, stop it. Your scent is upsetting my wolf.”

“Oh, well, I’m sorry your wolf is upset, Derek! But I’m upset too! My psycho mother is coming after us! I have a suicidal vampire blood-bonded to me! Stiles could go off at any time, like a goddamn nuclear bomb. Oh and you, you’ve been avoiding us all morning!” I take a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “So fuck you and fuck your stupid wolf for being upset!” I yell, running out of breath. To my complete and utter surprise Derek starts laughing. I groan furiously. “Stupid fucking werewolves! Let’s not tell Lydia anything…because it’s not like knowledge has ever helped anyone or-”

“God, I love you,” Derek says, chuckling. My heart stops, seizing.

I clamber up into the front seat, almost breaking my neck in the process. He laughs as he watches me struggle, infuriating me. Once I’m up front, I kneel across the center console, getting in his face. “You what?” I ask, practically daring him to say it again.

He looks over at me, smirking. “I said I love you,” he says playfully. “Even though you’re insane, completely insane.”

I ease back, lowering myself into the passenger seat. A million emotions run through me, giving me whiplash. I can’t decide if I’m excited or freaked out. Never did I think I’d hear Derek Hale say he loved anything, let alone me. The dude’s a walking wall of well…walls. He doesn’t let anything in or out.

What am I supposed to say? I mean, I love him…fuck yeah I love him. But knowing it and saying it are two different things. Oh God, I’m not saying anything. He just told me he loves me and I’m just sitting here like a mute dumbass.

“I…I…”

Derek chuckles, glancing over at me. “You don’t have to say anything, baby. I know I’m not easy to get to know. I can be distant, reclusive. And I apologize for that. If there is ever anything you want to know, just ask. I’ll gladly-”

“No, it not that!” I say, cutting him off. He looks over at me, green eyes earnest. I swallow my fear, smiling softly. “You don’t have to know a person’s favorite color to love them, Derek. You just surprised me. I figured we’d be together for a year or so before you told me…it’s not like wolves are known for being impulsive. They stalk their prey, taking their time,” I say plainly, trying my best to lay my feelings bare. But, in the end, I get lost in my own metaphor.

“What are you trying to say, Lydia?” he asks, amused.

I smack his arm lightly, lips pinched in mock anger. He arches an eyebrow as if to say, ‘that really all you got.’ I roll my eyes and flash him a smirk. “I love you too, asshole.” He smiles, taking my breath away. Why did I make that harder than it needed to be? Oh yeah, because I’m me and I never take the easy route.

Derek reaches over to cup my face in his hand, pulling me up for a quick kiss. I melt into him for a fraction of a second before easing back, not wanting us to crash. He brushes his fingers down my cheek, making me shudder. He touches me like I’m made of glass, with care and awe. I close my eyes as he tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, dropping his hand to cup the nape of my neck.

“You were so beautiful this morning, blushing and breathless,” he says softly, deep voice running down my spine like hot water. “Walking away from you and Stiles was torture.”

I open my eyes, crashing back to reality. He puts his hand back on the steering wheel, scenting my anger. “Then why did you do it?” I demand.

Derek exhales irritatedly, glancing back at Stiles to make sure that he’s okay. “I’m an alpha werewolf. If I lose control I could rip you both to shreds.” He runs a hand down his face, looking suddenly exhausted. “I’ve always had excellent control, but whenever I’m around you or Stiles my control slips. My wolf claws at me, willing me to bite you, to mark you.”

“Well for one, you need to let him out more. Once we’re back home, I’m gonna make sure you wolves go running least once a week.” Derek nods, agreeing with my point. “And it’s completely natural for you to want to mark your mates, Derek. I don’t know the ins and outs of it, but I know that it’s normal,” I say calmly, hoping to ease his fears.

“Exactly, you don’t know everything about it. I’ve told Stiles, but I haven’t told you.” He grits his teeth, shaking his head. “By marking you, I’d form a bond with you. It’s more than an anchor. I’ll always know where you are and how you are feeling.”

“That doesn’t seem like a bad thing,” I say, interrupting him.

“Not all of it is,” he says coldly. “When you’re away from me, my body will ache. I’ll be giving you full control of my wolf. Much the same as your bond with Nova, I will kill whomever you tell me to. And if you die, my wolf will wither and I will die too.”

I sit in silence for a moment, digesting everything that he just said. I had no idea that bonding with a wolf was so complicated. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?” I ask bluntly, unsure if I want to hear any more.

Derek clears his throat a little awkwardly. “You do know about knotting, don’t you?” he asks, blushing a little. I reach over to take his hand, lacing our fingers together.

I nod. “Yes, and I’m perfectly fine with it.” He exhales, relieved. “So you walked away from us this morning because you wanted to mark us, but you didn’t want to do it without explaining everything to me first?” I ask, warmth spreading in my chest. Who knew Derek was such a sweetheart?

“Yes, but that’s not the only reason. I’m worried about losing control. I don’t think my wolf will hurt you, but I’m not sure that he won’t.”

“Wolves don’t harm their mates, Derek, everyone knows that,” I say fixedly.

“Yes, but that’s not until after they’re bonded. Right now, I could lose control and kill you just the same as anyone else,” he says bleakly. I swallow, glancing over my shoulder at Stiles. Derek follows my gaze, guilt and fury burning in his dark eyes.

“Well then, why don’t we just get it over with?”

“Get it over with?” Derek asks, voice a deep growl. I cock my jaw to the side, realizing how utterly bitchy I just sounded. Marking ones mate is sacred among werewolves and here I am making it sound like getting a flu shot. And I thought Stiles the one with a big mouth.

“Sorry, that was…tactless. What I meant to say was, wouldn’t bonding sooner be better than later?”

“Yes, but my wolf has seen you and Stiles as my mates for years now. I’ve been struggling with the urge to mark you for long time. It’s not until recently that it’s become painful for me.”

“Painful?” I ask, worry gnawing at my insides.

Derek nods. “My jaw tends to ache whenever you or Stiles are aroused, or when I am anywhere near your necks.”

“Is that normal?”

“No, but neither is waiting for your mates to be in college before approaching them. My morals sometimes get me into trouble,” he says with a slight smile. I chew on my lip, grimacing. I can’t believe he’s viewed me as his mate for so long. Stiles, yes, I could always tell he had feelings for him, but not me.

“So all that waiting pissed of your wolf and there’s no telling what he might do now, or when he bites us,” I mutter, reality settling heavy on my shoulders.

“Exactly,” Derek says, glancing over at me. Our eyes meet and I squeeze his hand, hating the agony on his face. He hates that he could hurt us, wants nothing more than to keep Stiles and I safe.

“We’ll figure it out. You can go hunting before. We’ll make sure that your wolf is absolutely calm. Then, if you think you’re ready, we can go from there,” I say, shifting from concerned girlfriend to intellectual scholar in seconds. Reflexively, I run through everything I know about werewolf tempers. Their wolves are always closer to the surface when the full moon’s near. Aconite, or Wolf’s Bane, weakens them, but it tends to piss off their wolves. Running and hunting are always a very calming, except when there is danger near.

“You and Stiles are both way to smart for your own good,” Derek mutters, pulling me out of my own head. I blink rapidly, turning to look at him. He’s smiling at me, love in his eyes.

“I does tend to get us in trouble,” I say, giggling.

Derek cocks his head to the side, angling his ear towards the back seat. His eyes narrow and he turns to face me, holding my gaze. “He’s about to wake up.” I nod, heart in my throat.

“Is he okay? How’s his heartbeat?” I ask, worried.

“He’s alright, but he’s gonna need you to hold him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fastest update ever! It's proof that commenting really does make me write faster. I am such a comment whore. Haha. But seriously, thanks you for all of the amazing comments on the last chapter. I was a little self conscious about it and you guys were just so lovely. I love every single one of you!


	24. Chapter 24

I am just stepping over the middle consol when Stiles wakes up. He gasps, chest inflating completely, and opens his eyes. I rear backward, panic seizing my heart. His eyes, normally a gorgeous amber, are ice blue…the color cold and metallic. He looks like an oracle, a seer of the gods. He stares at me, expression utterly blank.

“Derek,” I mutter, voice pleading.

“It’s okay, baby,” he says soothingly. “The eyes are normal.”

I glance over my shoulder at him, throat dry with worry. “He’s not moving. Why isn’t he moving?” I ask frantically, turning back to Stiles. He hasn’t moved an inch, eyes looking through me.

“He just needs to be anchored down. Hold him and he’ll come back,” Derek says plainly. I bite my lip, studying Stiles. I don’t understand what’s going on. I’ve read about elementals, but everything written about them is ancient and obscure. Elementals are credited with acts of God, cutting the sea and setting the world on fire. They are beyond supernatural.

“He won’t hurt me…will he?” I ask, hating myself for even thinking it.

“I told you, Lydia, elementals aren’t like vampires and werewolves. Stiles is just Stiles. And he would never ever hurt you,” Derek says with absolute certainty. I nod, fear worming its way through my veins. He doesn’t look like Stiles. Stiles never sits still, rarely looks this somber, and never stares at me like he’s looking through me…like I am nothing. “There’s no reason for you to be scared of him.”

“Would you just…please…explain what’s going on?” My voice shakes.

Derek exhales, calming me. “Do you know what happens to werewolves when they are starved of touch?”

I look over my shoulder at him, placing my hand on his bicep, wanting him to know that that will never happen to him. He meets my gaze, green eyes steady and understanding. “Yeah, I do. They go catatonic…their wolf dying from the inside. Eventually, it kills them.” Derek drops his gaze, nodding solemnly and turning back to the road.

“This is kind of like that. Think of Stiles as a touch starved werewolf. He’s in there somewhere, but he needs you to find him.” My heart calms, slowing down. There’s a reason Derek makes an amazing alpha, and it isn’t his winning personality. He has a way of settling a person down, of easing their fears. “Using that much power comes at a price,” he says gravely.

I release his arm and inch forward, hands shaking ever so slightly. The second I touch Stiles’ skin he reacts, closing his eyes. Reassured, I settle myself down in his lap, tucking my face into the crook of his neck.

“You’re okay, Stiles. Derek and I are here and we’re not gonna let anything happen to you,” I whisper, running a hand down his neck. “I’ve got you, beautiful.” I reach up, trailing my fingers lightly down his jaw. “Come back to me. I know you’re in there somewhere.”

I cling to him, whispering softly as Derek drives. Bit by bit, the tightness in his muscles gives, his body relaxing. When he wraps his arms around me I jump, startled. He buries a hand in my hair and I relax, melting into him.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, voice breaking. I pull my head back and am greeted by a pair of earnest amber eyes. His brows are furrowed, his expression taut with worry. I lean in and kiss him softly, cupping his face with both hands.

“No, but I think you might’ve killed a squirrel or two,” I mutter, making Derek laugh. Stiles blanches, dropping his gaze. “Hey…hey…I was just kidding…”

“That’s not funny. I could’ve killed you, Lydia. I could’ve killed both of you!” Stiles says, torn between rage and terror. Derek growls, the sound reverberating through the car. Stiles grabs my hips and gently eases me off of his lap and into the seat next to him. I watch, worrying my bottom lip, as he tucks his knees up to his chest, burying his face.

“That didn’t happen and it never will,” Derek says sternly.

“You can’t know that,” Stiles mutters, voice muffled.

“Yes, I can. You’re and elemental…not a vampire. If you kill either of us it’ll be because we were meant to die. You are an embodiment of nature, Stiles.”

“Fuck that!” Stiles yells, furious tears brimming in his eyes. “I could see what I was doing, but I couldn’t stop. I had no control. None!” He tightens his hold on his legs, breathing becoming erratic. Aware that he’s about to have a panic attack, I fist a hand in his hair, forcing him to look at me.

“You aren’t supposed to have any control,” I say sharply, hoping to make my point even though I don’t completely understanding it myself. Stiles’ brows furrow, eyes narrowed suspiciously. I purse my lips, not knowing what to say.

“You don’t fight the storm, you let it happen,” Derek says, glancing back at us in the mirror. He catches Stiles’ gaze and holds it, green eyes fierce and protective. “What you can do is beyond us. When I asked my mother about elementals she said, ‘They are the servants of Mother Nature, not the other way around.’ You don’t have something inside of you vying for control. If you set the world on fire, it’s because it was meant to burn.” He turns back to the road, leaving Stiles wide-eyed and baffled.

I cup his cheek, turning his head. He hesitantly meets my gaze, swallowing guiltily. “Are you okay?” I ask tentatively, brushing my thumb across his cheek. He closes his eyes, taking in my touch like it’s sent from God. “It’s okay to be scared of what you can do. Hell, I’m the president of that club.” He opens his eyes, smiling gingerly. “So what if you set fires with your mind…I scream for dead people.”

“I love you,” Stiles whispers, making my heart skip. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to hearing him say that to me. God knows he’s said it before, dozens of times, but I wasn’t listening. I was caught up in my own bullshit, blind to what was standing right in front of me.  

“I love you too, beautiful,” I say, smirking when he blushes. Derek growls appreciatively, watching us in the mirror. “Legs down…I wanna lay in your lap.” Stiles does as instructed, dropping his legs. I settle my head down, curling up next to him. He winds my hair up in his fingers, clinging to me. We sit in silence for a few minutes, Stiles carding his fingers through my hair.

I’m half asleep when the sound of Derek’s voice rouses me. “Lydia and I were talking when you were unconscious. And there’s a few things I need to tell you,” he says, looking over his shoulder at Stiles.

“Okay,” Stiles mutter apprehensively, fiddling with his hands.

Derek clears his throat uncomfortably. “You and Lydia were both under the impression that wolves never harm their mates, but that’s not entirely true.” Stiles’ brows furrow in confusion and he glances down at me. “Yes, mated wolves never harm their mates, but that’s only after they mark them. Right now, I could harm you just as easily as anyone else,” Derek says darkly, fisting the steering wheel.

Stiles nods solemnly. “So that’s why you walked out on us earlier?”

“Yeah. I’m worried about marking you. My wolf will take over…I’ll have no control. If one of you makes a wrong move or if he’s upset about something, I could hurt you.” The worry in Derek’s voice is plain, palpable. He’s terrified that he’s going to wake up in a bloody bed with two dead mates. I clutch Stiles’ legs, loathing the mere thought of it.

“Derek, look at me,” Stiles says fiercely. Derek lifts his gaze to the mirror and Stiles meet it, holding him there. “Lydia and I know how to behave around werewolves. And we’ll make sure your wolf is calm before we do anything. Alright?” Derek exhales, nodding curtly.

He looks over his shoulder at us, brows drawn earnestly. “I love you,” he says, eyes shifting from me to Stiles and back. “After Kate, I swore I’d never love anyone again.” He turns back to the road, exhaling as memories weigh upon him. “Then the kid I’d saved from a car wreck showed up on my property, fucking beautiful with those amber eyes. A few days later a gorgeous girl bumped into me at a lacrosse game. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and told me to watch where I was going.” I giggle and Derek flashes me a smirk. “I hoped the two of you were already together, that would have made things easier…”

“Too bad I was a total bitch,” I mutter sardonically. Derek growls, the noise a sharp warning. I shiver, letting his love sink into my skin.

“You were just scared, scared of feeling anything…scared of admitting how fucking brilliant you are,” Stiles says sternly. I turn to look up at him, losing myself in his amber eyes. “But I always knew.” He trails his fingers down my neck, brushing his thumb across my jaw.

“Even when I didn’t,” I say, smiling. My expression slips, turning somber. “I’m sorry I left, Stiles. I was so scared. I thought that everyone would be safer if I was gone.” He takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “I saw the storm on the news and I wanted to come back. You were in pain.” Tears spill from the corners of my eyes and I turn my head, burying my face in his shirt.

He brushes a lock of hair from my face, running his fingers down to cup the nape of my neck. “I kinda lost it when you left, but Derek saved me. And you’re here now, that’s all that matters.” He puts his hand under my chin, gently forcing me to meet his gaze. “I’d forgive you for murder, Lydia Jane Martin.”

Derek chuckles. “That’s exactly what I told her.”

“When?” Stiles asks, glancing up at Derek.

“When you were passed out. Lydia was upset. She was worried that you wouldn’t forgive her for…” I close my eyes, focusing on the feel of Stiles’ hand in my hair. Derek deep voice runs down my body like water, lulling me to sleep.

 

 

_I’m tied to a tree in the middle of the woods, the moon high and full above me. Cold wind brushes my skin, toying with the leaves at my feet. It smells like rain and damp earth, reminding me of Stiles._

_“Lydia.” I lift my gaze, searching the semi-darkness. My eyes focus on someone kneeling a few feet away from me. Moonlight cuts through the treetops, illuminating my mother’s face. It’s streaked with tears, blood running from a cut on her lip._

_“Mom!” I scream, struggling against my bonds. The rope cuts into my skin, but I don’t care…I don’t matter. God, she looks so scared. “It’s okay, Mom. It’s okay…” Her eyes widen and she starts to shake, staring into the darkness behind me. I turn to look over my shoulder, fear cutting through me as Diana slides past me, red dress billowing in the wind._

_“Hello, darling,” she says, flashing me a wicked smile. My heart kicks into overdrive, chest heaving manically as I realize what’s about to happen._

_“No! Please, Diana! Please!” I beg, voice raw and clipped. I can’t let this happen. I won’t let her kill my mother. “I’ll do anything! I’ll join you! Just please…please don’t hurt her!” Tears spill down my cheeks as I watch Diana approach my mother. She strokes my mother’s matted hair as if my mother were a dog._

_“Oh, Lydia…so selfish. Always under the impression that everything is about you,” Diana lilts softly, bushing the hair from my mother’s face. “This has absolutely nothing to do with you. I’ve been planning this for years.”_

_“Planning what?” I ask, giving my mother a reassuring look. I’m going to get her out of this. Nothing is going to happen to her. Nothing._

_Diana laughs humorlessly. “I killed Deaton for taking you from me. Now I’m going to kill her for keeping you,” she says fiercely, eyes gleaming frenziedly in the moonlight. My throat dries up, heart seizing. “She raised you!” Diana fists a hand in my mother’s hair and wrenches her head back. My mother screams, clenching her eyes shut. “She ruined you!”_

_“Ruined me?” I ask, trying my best to stall._

_Diana looks up at me, watching as I struggle against the ropes. Blood runs down my arms as they cut into me. She eyes the droplets, smirking. “You were supposed to be mine. I would have raised you like a warrior, readied you for the battle that is to come. You were born to be my sword, my weapon! But this bitch ruined you!” she yells, running her nails up my mother’s cheek. My mom screams, blood oozing from the scratches._

_“Mom!”_

_“She can’t hear you, darling. Your not actually here…I’m just showing you some real-time footage of the fun. I would hate for you to miss out. She is your mother, after all,” Diana says, smirking._

_“Stay the hell away from my daughter you psycho bitch,” my mom yells, her voice calming me. I focus on it, letting it ease my fears._

_“Who are you calling bitch?” Diana hisses, wrenching my mother’s head back further. My mom gasps in pain, making my heart stop. “You’re the one who stole my daughter! You’re the one who screwed her up! You’re the bitch!” Diana growls, wrapping her hand around my mother’s neck and digging her nails into my mom’s nape. My mother screams, whimpering in pain._

_“Stop! Please stop!” I beg, furious tears cutting paths down my face. The ropes won’t budge and my scream won’t do anything here. This is something Diana is showing me. I’m not actually in the woods with her. She said real-time, which means this is happening right now. If I can just wake up them maybe the pack can get to her before anything happens._

_“She’s fighting the hold, Diana,” the woman with short blond hair says, stepping out of the trees and into the moonlight._

_Diana turn to look at her, eyes boring through the woman. “If you let her break free I’ll cut your hair off and suffocate you with it. Is that clear?” The woman nods solemnly, stepping back into the darkness._

_I grit my teeth, thrashing against the rope. Pain slices through me, quick and deep. Infuriated with my own weakness, I scream. God, why am I so fucking useless. Diana laughs as I scream, the noise doing nothing to her. I clench my hands into tight fists, nails cutting into my palms._

_“You’re just screaming inside of your own head, Lydia. I’m afraid your pretty voice won’t do you much good here,” Diana says smoothly, watching as I struggle to regain my breath. What am I supposed to do? These ropes aren’t going anywhere anytime soon and my scream is utterly useless._

_Terrified, I resort back to begging. “Please, Diana. I’ll join you. I’ll do whatever you say. Just please don’t hurt her. I swear I’ll do it, just please…please don’t hurt her.” Diana gives me a pointed look and laughs humorlessly. I glare at her, wanting nothing more than to cut her up into tiny little pieces. I’m giving her exactly what she wants, promising to serve her, and she just laughing._

_“I already told you, darling, this isn’t about you! This is between me and her,” Diana says, gesturing down to my mother. “I just wanted to show you what happens when you defy me. What I’ll do to everyone you love if you continue to evade me.” The hatred in her voice strips me bare. Suddenly, I can’t breathe. She’s going to kill my mother just to prove a point and unless I can wake up, there’s nothing I can do to stop her._

_“You don’t have to do this! I understand! Please! Please don’t kill her!” I plead, tears streaming down my face. My stomach clenches painfully, chest heaving as I struggle to breathe. I won’t let her die. I can’t let her die. “Please!” Diana laughs and I whimper, sobbing softly as I stare down at my mother._

_“Honestly, Lydia, she’s not worth the tears. You’re a banshee, for God’s sake, not a human!” Diana says disgustedly._

_“What’d you know about being human? There’s nothing human left in you!” I scream, thrashing harder against the ropes. Diana smirks at me, watching me the way a cat watches a mouse, with amused disinterest. “You kill her and I’ll never join you! Kill her and I’ll make it my life’s mission to find you and cut your head off!”_

_She throws her head back and laughs, the sound echoing around us. “You will if you want to spare the rest of your pack. I’ll kill every single one of them until you’ve got nobody left…until you are utterly alone,” she says sadistically, sheering at me._

_“Touch them and I’ll fucking end you!” I scream, throat raw and aching._

_“You need to watch your language, young lady,” Diana says with a childlike little giggle that sets my teeth on edge. She flashes me a wicked smile and then turns her gaze back on my mother, tightening her hold on my mom’s neck. “Tell your daughter how much you love her.”_

_“Lydia’s not here! She’s safe! Safe from you!” my mom yells. Diana tightens her hold, cutting off my mother’s air supply. My mom gasps, struggling to breathe._

_“Tell her!” Diana says manically, loosening her hand. My mom takes a deep breath, chest hitching. She blinks back tears, staring up at the stars. I sob, battering my body as I fight against the ropes. No. This isn’t happening. I can’t let this happen. I struggle, trying to wake up. But I have no idea how to do it. I’m stuck in my own head, helpless._

_“I love you, honey. You are the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m so happy that I got to be your mother,” she says, smiling sadly up at the sky._

_“No! No! Mom, please! Don’t say that. You’re fine. I won’t let anything happen to you. I won’t let her hurt you!” I scream. Diana glances up at me and giggles, seemingly adoring this. I catch her gaze and hold it, glaring at her. “I swear to God, if you kill her I will hunt you down and scream until your brain leaks out of your ears! You hear me!” The promise in my voice is absolute, irrevocable. No one hurts my family._

_“You’ll do no such thing. Not if you want the rest of your pack to survive,” Diana says sternly. “Now, be a good girl and say goodbye to your mother.” She releases my mom and steps off to the side, so that both myself and my mother can see her. She looks over at me expectantly, lips pursed._

_“No! I won’t say goodbye! I won’t let you-”_

_“Suit yourself,” she mutters, cutting me off. Then, before I can say another word, she starts to scream. My mother stares up at the sky, jaw clenched in pain. I watch, heart breaking, as blood runs from her ears down her neck. Her eyes roll back in her head and her body collapses, tumbling down into the decaying leaves._

_Diana closes her mouth and the forest is filled with the sound of my broken sobs. They rack my body, leaving me breathless and wanting. I stare down at my mother’s lifeless body, fury and grief eating me alive…gnawing at my bones. I can’t breathe. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. She’s not dead._

_Diana walks over to me, dress dancing in the wind. I scream wrathfully when she takes my face in her hands, forcing me to look at her. “Remember this the next time you think about defying me. I will have you, darling. It’s only a matter of time and bodies.” She smiles at me, brown eyes steady and ruthless. “How many more will I have to kill?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...what did you guys think of the mid-season finale? I was kinda unimpressed. Lydia was passed out the entire episode. What the hell was that about? Anyways, I hope you guys liked this chapter. Comment and tell me how much you hate Diana. ;)


	25. Chapter 25

I wake up screaming, my chest lifting as the sound tears it’s way out of my lungs. It feels like my reality is caving in, crumbling around me. I scream, unable to get the look on my mother’s face out of my head. My body fucking aches…everything hurts. She can’t be dead. She’s not dead. I can’t breathe. I can’t stop screaming.

The sound of screeching tires cuts through the noise. There’s a loud crunching, follow by the sound of shattering glass. I’m thrown forward like a ragdoll, still screaming. I open my eyes just in time to see Derek grab me before I hit the windshield. The impact of his arm hitting me steals my breath, forcing me to stop screaming. Instead, I wilt into ardent sobs.

“Stiles!” Derek yells as he tucks me up against his chest. I cling to him, burying my hands in his shirt. “Stiles, baby, talk to me!” Derek growls irately, placing his hand on the door and shoving it off of its hinges. Quickly, he steps out of the Camaro and runs across the street.

“Derek,” I whimper as he sets me down. My head spins, vision blurring.

“I’ve gotta get Stiles!” Derek says sharply. He’s halfway across the street when the car blows ups. The explosion throws him backward, his body caving around the blast cloud. I land on my back, the air stolen from my lungs once again.

I can’t breathe. Smoke billows around me, making it impossible to see. I roll onto my stomach, whimpering as pain rockets up my side. I must have a few broken ribs from where Derek caught me. Fear runs through me, ice cold, as I grab a tree and use it to pull myself to my feet.

Turning, I glare through my tears, the smoke stinging my eyes. Derek is laying unconscious a few feet away, bleeding from a head wound. I turn to face what’s left of his car, flames licking up the sides.

“Stiles!” I dash forward, legs shaking. But someone grabs me before I can throw myself into the blazing vehicle. I twist around and open my mouth, ready to kill whoever thinks they can stop me from saving the man I love. But I stop short when I see Nova, coal colored eyes slicing through me. “Stiles! He’s still in there!” I scream, coughing against the smoke.

Nova nods curtly, irises dilating. “Go to Derek.” I walk past him and make my way over to Derek, even though the only thing I want to do is run to Stiles. Fucking vampire! If Stiles dies I’m going to stake him to the front door of a church.

Kneeling next to Derek, I strip off my cardigan and place it against his head, hoping to stop the bleeding. He rouses for a moment when I touch him, muttering Stiles’ name. I shush him softly, turning to face the flames. My heart seizes painfully, stomach caving as sobs tear through me. I just lost my mother. If I lose Stiles too it’ll be the death of me. I won’t survive it…I can’t.

Lightening fast, Nova pulls the door off of the car and grabs Stiles, yanking him out of the burning vehicle. One second he’s in the car and the next he’s laying Stiles down on my other side. I shuffle over to him, expecting to see his half burned corpse. But he’s fine, not a burn on him.

“How is he…” I trail off, burying my face in his singed clothes. He rouses when I touch him, groaning exhaustedly. I lift my head, meeting his amber eyes. He grabs me, pulling me into his arms. I cling to him, sobbing.

“I could feel the fire…” Stiles mutters, fisting a hand in my hair. “How am I not burned to a fucking crisp?” he asks, looking up at Nova. I follow his line of sight, wanting to murder the vampire when he smiles. Who the fuck smiles right after a car wreck? What kind of psychopath is he?

“In the words of the great Daenerys Targaryen, ‘fire cannot burn a dragon.’ Of course, you’re an elemental but…same principles apply,” he says, chuckling. I have no idea what the hell he is taking about, but Stiles sure seems to. He smiles widely, eyeing the vampire like he’s holding a basket full of puppies.

“I don’t even care that you bit me! All that matters is that you watch Game of Thrones. Finally! Someone else who watches it!” he says excitedly. “Please tell me you’re team Dany-”

“Stiles, now is so not the time to be playing Dungeons and Dragons!” I yell, cutting him off. Gracelessly, I crawl over to Derek. Stiles realizes that our wolf is hurt and his smile disappears. He follows my lead, flanking Derek’s other side. My cardigan is wet with blood, almost soaked through. I’m overcome with dread. I can’t lose him. I need him.

“Stay with us, Sourwolf,” Stiles says, voice needy and honest. Tears fill his eyes as he runs a hand down Derek’s jaw, fingering the wolf’s thick stubble.

I glance over my shoulder at Nova, who looks to be playing Candy Crush on his phone. Furious, I start screaming obscenities at him. “Derek’s bleeding out and you’re playing Candy Crush! What the fuck is wrong with you! Call the police! We need an ambulance!”

He arches an eyebrow at me, shifting from one foot to another. “You are aware that your boyfriend is a werewolf, aren’t you?” he asks sardonically, infuriating me.

“I swear to God, I’m gonna Vampire Diaries your sorry ass if you don’t call the police!” I scream, tears cutting through the grime on my face. He chuckles, amused by my reference but totally not buying my threat. “I’m serious, Nova! You made a blood oath!”

He flashes his fangs at me, hissing softly. “I’m well aware of what I did, baby banshee. And I already did my part…saving your loved ones and all.” He waves his hand nonchalantly at Stiles and Derek as if to say, ‘see…still breathing.’

“You didn’t save him! He’s bleeding out!” I scream, frantically wishing I hadn’t left my phone back in Beacon Hills. “Stiles, do you have your-”

Nova cuts me off with an exaggerated groan, stalking over to us. I watch, brows furrowed, as he kneels over Derek. “Stupid fucking werewolf. Shift!” he yells, slapping Derek’s face a few times. I try to push the vampire off of Derek, but Stiles stops me with a stern look. Nova grabs Derek’s arm and turns to look down at him. “Sorry about this,” he says then he breaks Derek’s arm.

Derek wakes up with a roar, shifting from human to wolf in seconds. Nova jumps backward, Derek lunging at him. I’m about to place myself between them when Derek stumbles, legs giving out beneath him. His body hits the ground and he whimpers, turning his head to watch as Stiles and I crawl over to him.

Fisting a hand in Derek’s fur, I glare over at Nova. “What the fuck was that! You broke his arm! How is that helping?” I ask heatedly. Leave it to me to be blood bonded with the most incompetent vampire on the planet.

Nova rolls his eyes. “He’ll be fine! They heal faster in wolf form. I broke his arm to wake him up. Honestly, you two live with werewolves…you’d think you would’ve at least Googled them,” he says with a humorless laugh. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, eyes straying on the cuff of his jacket. “Fuck! This is my favorite jacket! Stupid Camaro set my jacket of fire!”

“Is he insane?” Stiles asks, brows drawn.

“There’s a high probability,” Nova mutters, answering Stiles’ question. “Am I insane or just lovably damaged…you decide! I’m basically a walking, talking pick your own adventure book!” He laughs, dialing a number on his phone and putting it up to his hear.

“Who are you calling?” I ask, focusing on the feel of Derek’s heartbeat.

“The Pope. Who the fuck do you think I’m calling?” he says, rolling his eyes again. I grit my teeth, struggling with the urge to throttle him. “Hey, Isa. Yeah…I heard it too. Figured it was baby banshee. No, Derek lost control of the car. Yeah, we’re alright.” He pauses for a moment, glancing around. “We’re just past mile marker 15.” Exhaling, he slips his phone back into his pocket.

“So?” Stiles asks after a moment of silence.

“So…you’re welcome! God, you people are so ungrateful,” Nova says playfully, looking around. I study him; the young man standing before me is a far cry from who he was yesterday. I’ve seen him as an insatiable animal and an abused child, but I haven’t seen much of this laid-back, sardonic side of him. “And to think, I was this close to finishing season seven of Criminal Minds,” he says, holding up his fingers to show how close he was. I gape at him. Is he serious?

“I love that show! Who do you think Morgan should end up with, Penelope or Spencer?” Stiles asks Nova, eyes wide and inquisitive.

Nova smirks manically. “Either…both…I’m down for that chocolate vanilla swirl,” he says smoothly, confusing me. Stiles laughs, the sound setting my seething stomach. I exhale, throat dry and scratchy. My mother’s blank face flashes before my eyes, but I shove the image down, determined to focus on Derek. He’s alive. He needs me right now.

“Oh, I definitely like you,” Stiles says, amber eyes glinting with firelight.

“Course you do, sugar,” Nova says smoothly. Stiles drops his gaze, blushing, and Nova laughs. “I’m just kiddin’…I really don’t need an angry alpha on my ass. That’ll ruin your weekend.”

“Yep, he’s insane,” I mutter, giving Stiles a pointed look. The elemental just laughs, embracing the vampire’s insanity as if it were nothing. It’s one of the things I love about him, Stiles’ ability to love the crazy parts of a person, to blindly accept their madness.

A few minutes later a black truck screeches to a stop in front of us. Isa and Max come barreling out of the vehicles, rushing over to us. Isa falls to her knees next to me, cupping Derek’s muzzle.

“You okay?” she asks frantically, tears brimming in her eyes. Derek growls softly, wordlessly reassuring his sister. She nods and then slips her arms underneath him, lifting him up. Max lowers the tailgate for her wife, watching as Isa settles Derek down in the bed of the truck. Unwilling to leave him, she lays down next to him, one hand buried in his black fur.

Stiles stands up and helps me to my feet, cupping my face in his hands. “Are you hurt, Liddy?” he asks, looking me over slowly. I stand stock still and silent, staring into his eyes. Yes. Yes, I’m hurt. Everything fucking hurts. My mother is dead. She’s dead and there’s nothing I can do to change that. “It’s okay…we’re okay…” he says gently, brushing the tears from my cheeks.

Derek whimpers loudly, reacting to the scent of my agony. Isa shushes him, holding him in place. “They’re fine, Der. Your mates are fine.” Derek’s whimpers turn into growls, the wolf pleading I go to him.

Stiles glances over at the burning car, brows furrowed. I can tell the second he remembers what caused the crash because his eyes widen, fear slicing through him like a knife. “Who was it, Lydia?” he asks, voice tattered. “I’ve only heard you scream like that once before and that was when Allison almost died.” I don’t answer him. I don’t want to admit that my mother is dead because if I say it out loud then it’s real. “Lydia, tell me!” he demands, shaking me forcefully.

“Diana killed my mother,” I mutter, pulling out of his arms. Derek growls irately, the noise shredding the silence around us. I turn away from Stiles, glaring at the empty forest. Tears spill down my cheeks, making my eyes burn.

“She screamed and Derek lost control of the car. Yeah, we’re okay,” Stiles says curtly. I know instantly that he’s taking to his dad on the phone. Stiles has the heart of a detective. His first instinct was to confirming that what I saw was the truth. “No, Dad, I promise. We’re fine. Now just tell me!” he says, voice rising. Silence follows, a silence that speaks volumes. It was real. My mother is dead. She’s dead. “We’ll be home in a day or so. And, Dad, do me a favor and check up on everybody, okay? Thanks…Love you too.”

I exhale, an empty cavern forming in the pit of my stomach. I can’t remember the last time I saw my mother. I was busy with college and then I started to hear that ringing in my ears. God, I should’ve called her. I am…I was a terrible daughter. Sobs rack my body. 

Stiles catches me before my knees hit the ground. Lifting me into his arms, he tucks my head into the crook of his neck, shushing me softly. I clench my eyes shut, whimpering as he gets into the truck. The vehicle roars to life; Stiles burying a comforting hand in my hair.

“I tried to stop her! I tried,” I sob, clinging to Stiles.

“I know, Liddy…I know…” he whispers, voice thick with anger and grief. Though he was closer to Scott’s mom than mine, but both women acted as a sort of surrogate mother for him. “It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself.”

I pull back, glaring down at my hands. “But it was…it was my fault. She adopted me! If I wasn’t in her life she’d still be alive! I killed her!”

Stiles takes my face in his hands, forcing my gaze upward. His amber eyes tear into me, steady and full of warmth. “She loved you, Lydia. You were her world. If given the choice between you and life, she would always have chosen you. Always.” He brushes the tears from my cheeks, looking at me earnestly. I drop my gaze, breath hitching. He’s right. My mother loved me, more than anyone or anything.

Allison’s face flashes before my eyes, followed by the faces of the other people in our pack. Diana will come after them next, along with Stiles and Derek. I have to keep them safe. No one else dies.

“Is everyone else okay?” I ask tentatively, meeting Stiles’ gaze.

He nods. “They’re fine. My Dad’s gonna check on them. And he’s got every cop in California on the look out for Diana,” he says, doing his best to comfort me. He falls silent for a moment, deliberating, and then he clears his throat. “He…he…said that he and Melissa are going to take care of everything.” I clench my eyes shut, sending fresh tears down my face. By ‘everything’ he means her funeral. I don’t want to see her like that. I don’t want to watch them lower my mother into the ground.

“Peonies,” I say frantically, unable to breathe. “They…they were her favorite flowers. She loved them…especially the pink ones. You’ll make sure your dad knows that-”

Stiles pulls me into a tight hug, cutting me off. “Of course, baby,” he whispers, stroking the back of my head. “Anything you need.” He continues to whisper soft things to me until we get to Max and Isabel’s house.

Once we are inside, Stiles slumps down on the couch, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around me. Max hands him a blanket and he drapes it over me, enveloping me in warmth. I burrow into his chest, heart aching painfully.

“I’m gonna fucking kill her!” Derek roars, the noise seeping through the open door. Max hurries over and closes it, but it does little to hamper the sound. “I will tear her to shreds! No one hurts them! Stiles and Lydia are mine! Mine!” The wolf is plain in his voice, both of them rabid with anger. Derek’s willing to kill for me and we’re not even mated yet. God know what he’ll be willing to do once we are.

“I’m with wolfie. I say we cut her open and pull out her lungs, see if she can scream those puppies,” Nova says sadistically; I can almost hear his wicked smile. I grit my teeth, wanting nothing more than to watch him do exactly that. She deserves to die. I’m going to make her suffer for what she’s done.

“I agree. Completely,” Isa says sternly. “And we will find her, Derek. We’ll hunt that bitch down and you can tear her spine out through her mouth. But, right now…right now Lydia needs you.”

The door opens and they call come inside, Derek taking a pair of grey sweats from Max. He slips them on and sits down next to us. I turn to look at him, losing myself in his green eyes. He reaches up and runs his fingers down my face. I close my eyes, relishing in his touch. He radiates dominance and protection, instantly making me feel safe.

“I wanna go home,” I mutter, pleading.

Derek nods, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear. He turns away from me, catching Nova’s gaze. “Can we borrow your truck?” he asks, though it’s more of a statement than a question.

“Sure,” Nova says tonelessly. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Your coming?” Max asks, tossing a suitcase onto the kitchen table. Nova glances over at her and nods.

He shrugs off his burned jacket, draping it over the back of a chair. “I made a blood oath,” he says, catching my gaze. I swallow, staring deep into his almost-black eyes. There is something in them, something more than just obligation. He cares about us. Sure, maybe it’s just the oath pushing him to protect, but maybe its not. Maybe there’s more to Nova than meets the eye. “Don’t worry about your friends, baby banshee, I’ll keep an eye on them.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, watching as he walks out the door. I turn my gaze to Max, who is busy packing. “How long will it take for him to get there?”

“Three hours tops,” she says firmly, glancing over at the door. “He likes you, Lydia. Don’t think he’s doing this because he has to. I know it doesn’t seem like it, but he’s got a good heart.” She drops her gaze, fiddling with the hairbrush in her hands.

“I know,” I say, taking her by surprise. She looks up at me, brows furrowed. I swallow, brushing the tears from my face. “No evil person bottle feeds a sick kitten they found on the side of the road.” She beams at me, blue eyes wide and sincere. I can’t help but wonder how often people get the wrong idea about Nova, forcing Max to defend him.

“I’m done,” Isa says, tossing a duffle bag onto the couch opposite us.

“Me too,” Max says as she zips up her pink suitcase. Derek stands up and takes their bags from them, making both girls smile.

“Kissass,” Stiles mutters. Derek makes a point of hitting his head with Isa’s duffle on his way out. Stiles laughs, the sound of his happiness instantly making me feel better. He cups my face with his hand, drawing my attention. “You ready?” I nod and he carries me out of the house and into the back of the truck.

I watch Derek hand his sister a piece of paper. “That’s my address.” Isa nods, tucking the yellow slip into her pocket. Then, before Derek has a chance to move, she dives into his arms, holding him tight. He stands still for a moment before wrapping her up.

“I love you, Der,” she says, sounding a lot younger than she is.

“I love you too, Isabella.” His words are a simple vow, a solemn promise. I blink rapidly, trying to hold back tears. What is my mother kills Isabel? I couldn’t bear watching Derek lose his family again. He pulls back and reaches over, stroking Max’s face softly. She smiles brightly, Isa grabbing her hand and leading her over to their car.

Derek gets into the truck and starts her up, glancing over his shoulder at Stiles and I. “I thought I lost you,” he mutters, voice raw and open…like a bleeding wound. Stiles’ breath hitches, tightening his hold on me.

“Not even close, Sourwolf,” he says, holding Derek’s gaze. Warm wind circles around us, softly stroking my skin. It smells like apple pie and pine trees, the scent alone calming my frayed nerves and reminding me how much I adore him. He and Derek are my home, my family. “Apparently I’m fireproof…which is like the coolest thing ever.” He laughs and I smile, trailing my fingers down his neck.

They take turns holding me as we drive home. It gets dark and I fall asleep on top of Derek, head on his chest. When I wake up, Derek is laying me down on his bed. He kills the lights as Stiles strips off his clothes and slides in next to me. I lace my fingers through his as Derek lies down on my other side, wrapping a protective arm around both of us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter! Please comment and let me know, I always love hearing from my lovely readers.  
> Oh and, just so you guys know, I'm back in college now. Which means updates may be a little more sporadic. If it's been more than like 10 days feel free to harass me in the comments. :)


	26. Chapter 26

I wake up with my head on Derek’s chest. His breathing is slow and even. Slowly, I sit up, careful not to jostle him. I slide off the bottom of the bed, searching the mass of covers for Stiles. It takes me a minute, but eventually I spot his hand sticking out from under a pillow.

“No more balloons…” he mutters to himself, twisting around in the blankets.

Giggling to myself, I walk out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Stripping off my dirty clothes, I step into the shower. I let the hot water sink into my bones, exhaling exhaustedly. Blood and dirt cascade off of my body, staining the water a ruddy brown color. I mechanically wash my hair and shave, trying to keep my mind utterly blank.

I step out of the shower, wrap a towel around myself, and make my way into one of the guest bedroom. Thankful again that Derek thought to have us store clothes here, I pull a dress out of the dresser and slip it on. I’m toweling my hair off when I hear noises coming from downstairs. It sounds like someone is doing the dishes.

Heart in my throat, I slowly make my way downstairs. An image of Diana standing in Derek’s house flashes before my eyes. I stop moving, fear coursing through my veins like electricity. I clench my hands into tight fists, fear morphing into blind fury. If it is her, I’m going to fuck her up.

Nails cutting into the palms of my hands, I descend the rest of the stairs. I spot Stiles’ bat sitting against the couch and grab it. Screaming is my best weapon, but it’s always good to have a back up. The open floor plan of Derek’s house makes it difficult to sneak up on someone, but I do my best. Bat held high, I stalk across the living room.

“You suck at recon, baby banshee,” Nova says sardonically, chuckling. Exhaling in relief, I drop Stlies’s bat, setting it down on the kitchen table. Nova is standing at the stove, dressed only in a frumpy purple sweater and a pair of black boxer briefs. His hair, normally perfectly styled into a fohawk, is a mess. I arch an eyebrow; did he sleep here? He glances over his shoulder at me and cracks an egg into a pan.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, hopping up onto the counter.

“Makin’ eggs. What are you doing here?” he says, smirking. His fangs glint manically. Added to the day-old eyeliner that rings his eyes, he looks like some kind of vampy goth twink. Honestly, it’s kind of adorable.

“Did you sleep here?” I ask, watching him flip pancakes on a griddle.

“Yep. I was hungry and tired, figured this was easier than getting a hotel.” He glances over at me, tonguing his lip rings. “Don’t worry, I’ll get one today. I know that werewolves can be very territorial.” I nod, eyeing the couch. Did he sleep on it or did he take one of the guest rooms? He catches me staring and laughs. “I didn’t sleep hanging upside-down from the rafters, if that’s what you’re thinking.” I laugh; he’s really starting to grow on me.

“So…is your name actually Novacane?” I ask as I watch him pour pancake batter. He sprinkles them with chocolate chips, making me smile.

“It’s the only name I answer to,” he mutters, glancing sideways at me. “Is that what you’re asking?” I arch an eyebrow and he chuckles. “I was like thirteen, working at a strip club.” My throat dies up, stomach tying itself in tight knots. That’s ten different kinds of illegal, but Nova doesn’t seem the least bit fazed. “Anyways, I was giving some dude a lap dance and his friend said, ‘just like Novocain…he’ll make you feel good.’ And it kinda stuck.”

“That’s…” I trail off, unsure what to say.

He scoffs sardonically, flipping the pancakes. “Hey, you asked.” His tone is clipped, defensive. I nod, fiddling anxiously with a wooden spoon. “Any other pertinent questions?”

“Yeah,” I say, jaw cocked to the sided. He arches an eyebrow, glancing over at me. “If you don’t eat, why are you making breakfast?” He chuckles in response as he scrambles the eggs.

“That’s a myth. I do eat, but I’m not doing this for me. I took the liberty of inviting your pack over for breakfast,” he says, spooning the eggs onto a plate.

“You talked to them?” I ask, stunned. I’d never seen a vampire before Nova and I know that neither has anyone else in my pack. God knows how they’d react to one randomly walking up to them. Scott and Kira would probably brush it off, being friendly, but Allison and Isaac definitely wouldn’t.

“No. I just texted them for Stiles’ phone,” he says, gesturing nonchalantly to the phone on the table. “They’ll be here in like fifteen minutes.”

I clear my throat, brows drawn in confusion. I know that I should yell at him for hijacking Stiles’ phone, but how do you yell at someone who is making you chocolate-chip pancakes? “You do realize that they’ve never met a vampire before, right?” I ask, studying his expression.

He looks over at me and nods. “Most people haven’t.”

“It’s just that I don’t know how they’ll react when they see you. This is pack territory and they’ll probably take you as a threat,” I say, watching as he cracks more eggs into the pan. His movements are quick and precise, elegant fingers marred with white scars across his knuckles.

He brushes me off with a huff. “Kira and Scott will accept me once they know that I’m here to protect everyone. Allison will be wary until she sees me in action. And Isaac…he’ll probably never like me,” he says, naming them off like he’s got a clipboard in front of him. I gape, mouth hanging wide.

“How did you-”

“I did my homework,” he says curtly, cutting me off.

I lick my lips, nodding. “I’m guessing you don’t just want to meet the pack. Am I right?” I ask tentatively. He pulls some bacon out of the fridge, cuts the strips in half, and starts laying them out on a pan. The action makes my stomach hurt; my mother used to cut them in half.

“You need a game plan, baby banshee. You don’t win wars by halfassing them. You want that bitch dead, right?” he asks viciously, flashing his fangs.

“Yes,” I say starkly, rage burning in my gut. He smiles, dark eyes gleaming menacingly. Stiles referred to Nova as a weapon and I’m starting to think he was right. Nova may be young and, behind his punk-rock façade, innocent at heart, but I’ve seen his savagery. He’s capable of murder. And he’s bound to me, sworn to protect me and the people that I love.

He catches my gaze and smirks. “Good. By the end of today you’re gonna want her more than dead. You’ll be begging me to slice her up, piece by piece.” He turns back the bacon, flipping them over. I grit my teeth, fear and apprehension gnawing at my stomach.

“Why?”

“Because your mother’s funeral is this afternoon,” he says solemnly. I drop my gaze to my hands, tears brimming in my eyes. I can’t go. I can’t watch them put her in the ground. She’s all I’ve ever had. She’s the one who held me when I was scared. She sat through The Little Mermaid more times that I could count. She let me play with her makeup and didn’t get mad when I got eye shadow all over the bathroom. She was patient and kind, even when I wasn’t. Tears spill down my cheeks, dripping onto my clasped hands. “Lydia,” Nova says softly.

“Yeah,” I mutter, lifting my gaze. Embarrassed, I quickly brush the tears from my face, blinking rapidly.

“I will make her pay for this. I promise,” he says, holding my gaze. My throat tightens up, fresh tears cascading down my cheeks. Hesitantly, he reaches out and puts his hand on my wrist.

 

_I am standing in a dark alleyway, the flicking streetlight barely illumining the night. There’s a scuffle behind me followed by the sound of someone grunting. I walk towards the noise, worrying my bottom lip. Stepping around a large garbage can, I find a middle age businessman fucking Nova into a brick walls._

_The vampire looks maybe fifteen, his hair a bleach-blond mess that’s hanging in his eyes. He’s making soft pleading noises, but his expression is tight, pained. I step towards him, ready to tear the man off of him, when I remember that I can’t. This is a memory._

_“So fucking good,” the man moans, thrusting into Nova. The vampire scrapes his nails across the cinderblock, leaving little white lines. I tear my gaze away, staring fixedly at the street lamp across the street. The man continues to praise Nova, all the while calling him degrading names like slut and whore. Bile rise in my throat when he comes, moaning loudly._

_“Same as last week?” the man asks as he steps back, zipping up his pants._

_“Yeah,” Nova mutters as he pulls up his pants and twists around to face the man. I watch, brows furrowed, as the man pulls out his wallet and hands Nova two crisp hundred-dollar bills. Nova tucks the bills into his pocket and flashes the man a fake smile. “Thanks, baby, I really enjoyed that,” he says and then he disappears._

_Before I know what’s happening, I am standing in a shabby bathroom, the sink stained with rust. Nova stalks past me, stripping off his clothes so angrily that they are ripping at the seams. My heart lurches when I notice the tears running down his angular face._

_“Good little whore…pretty little slut…you like that don’t you…don’t you…fuck!” He slams his fist into the wall, caving in the moldy sheetrock. Pulling back his bloodied hand, he shrugs off his shirt and steps out of his pants._

_I cover my mouth with my hand, horrified by the state of his body. In the dark alley, he just looked thin, but the truth is far worse. He’s so skinny that, with every breath, it looks like his ribs are about to burst through his skin. He’s covered in scars, lash marks on his back and cigarette burns on his arms. The dark circles under his eyes look like bruises. I want to take him into my arms, to hold him. No one deserves this, especially not a kid._

_He steps into the shower, facing the hot spray. With shaking hands, he wets a washcloth and runs it between his between cheeks. He hisses in pain, washing the blood off of the rag. I tear my eyes away, tears streaming down my cheeks._

_He starts crying and I watch his slightly distorted frame slide down the shower wall. He curls up into a tight little ball, burying his face in his knees. The sound is almost animalistic, a whimpering that tears at me. He’s starving, I’d bet money on it. The poor thing only has the heart to hunt criminals and you don’t just stumble upon people like that._

_He sits in the shower until the water goes cold and then longer. I’m half asleep by the time he stands up and grabs a ratty towel, wrapping it around his emaciated frame._

_I follow him into his apartment, if it could even be classified as one. It consists of a single bed, a small stack of what looks like library books, and a little dresser. On the dresser is a framed photo of a dark haired couple. They must be Nova’s parents. Why would he keep a photo of the people who tried to kill him?_

_I avert my eyes as he gets dressed, staring at a large crack on the ceiling. He shrugs on a thin jacket, zips it up against the cold, and walks out the door. I follow him down three flights of rickety stairs and across a street. He walks into a brightly lit diner and slides into a booth, running his hand down his face._

_I sit down across from him, watching his dark eyes dart from person to person. I quickly realize that he’s hunting, maybe unconsciously. I’ve seen him lose control and it’s obvious that he’s nearing that point._

_“Thanks, Joe!” a woman yells from somewhere behind me. I instantly recognize Max’s warm voice. I look over my shoulder, watching as she walks out of the kitchens. She’s dressed in a pink sundress, hair piled on top of her head and held in place with two chopsticks._

_“Anytime, honey!” a man says from the kitchen. Max laughs, smiling brilliantly. A waitress hands her a bag of takeout and she accepts it graciously. Inhaling, she twists around, eyes settling instantly on Nova. She was raised by vampires, sniffing one out is probably easy for her. Nova flinches, but keeps his eyes on his hands. Max approaches him cautiously, resituating her purse on her shoulder. Nova curls inward, muscles clenching tighter with every step she takes._

_“May I?” she asks politely, gesturing to the seat next to me. Nova swallows and nods, looking like he wants to tear off his own skin. She sits silently for a moment, studying him. “I’m Max. What’s your name?” Her voice is kind, motherly. And he reacts to it unconsciously, relaxing._

_“Nova,” he says, almost inaudibly._

_Max smiles, blue eyes beaming. “That’s a pretty name. Max is short for Maxine, which is a horrible name if you ask me. Naming your kid something terrible should be considered child abuse,” she says with a little giggle. To my complete surprise, Nova smiles ever so slightly. “You look really hungry, when was the last time you fed.”_

_Nova lifts his gaze, looking utterly horrified. Max remains composed; despite the fact that Nova’s charcoal eyes are ripping holes through her. “I…how do you…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, stumbling across his words._

_Max smiles softly, understanding in her eyes. “I may be a werewolf, but I was raised in a coven. I know what it looks like when a vampire is hungry,” she says. Nova clenches his hands into tight little fits, muscles tensing until his position looks painful. His breathing is erratic, frightened._

_“What do you want?” he asks frantically. “I don’t have much money, but I’ll give you everything I have. If that’s not enough…you can have me. Most of my clients are men, but I do know how to please women. I can-”_

_“I don’t want anything from you, honey. I’m not going to tell anyone what you are or exploit you in any way.” Nova lifts his gaze, eyes narrowed in disbelief. The look on his face makes me wonder when the last time a person was nice to him. “I was just wondering why you haven’t fed. You do know how to compel don’t you?” she asks gently, keeping her body language passive._

_“Compel?” Nova mutters, chewing reflexively on his bottom lip._

_“Oh, baby…” Max whispers, eyes heavy with pity. “Listen. Why don’t you come home with me? My wife, Isabel, would love to meet you. We can teach you how to compel, that way you’ll never have to go hungry again.”_

_Nova clenches his fists, lifting his gaze. His dark eyes carve through Max as he glares at her. “How stupid do you think I am?” he asks irately, gaining the attention of a few late night diners. “You got some sick husband at home that wants a little twink on the side? You gonna take me home and watch him fuck me. You get off on that?”_

_Max stares at him, wide-eyed and sickened. “I meant what I said, Nova. And no, I would never ever let anyone hurt you,” she says fiercely, making me smile. Nova continues to glare at her, completely unconvinced. Exhaling, Max pulls out her phone and scrolls through the pictures until she locates the one she’s looking for; a photo of her and Isabel in white dresses. “That’s my wife and I on our wedding day,” she says, showing Nova the picture. Nova nods, but doesn’t say anything. “How young were you when you were bitten?”_

_“I was nine,” he says bleakly, dropping his gaze back to his hands._

_Max’s eyes flash bright blue, her hands shaking with rage. Nova scoots closer to the door, reacting instinctively to the change in her scent. “That’s illegal. If you tell me the name of your maker I’ll make sure he’s killed for what he did to you.” Nova’s brows furrow, her concern confusing him._

_“I don’t know his name. I don’t even know what he looks like,” he says tonelessly, picking at his thumbnail. Max growls, startling him. She’s seething, hand shaking as she struggles to control her wolf._

_“He abandoned you freshly turned? A child!” she yells. A few people in the diner glance over at her before turning back to their food. Nova swallows, sliding elegantly out of the booth. He’s scared and entirely out of his element, unsure what to think of Max._

_“I’m leaving. Follow me and I promise you won’t like what happens next,” he says, flashing his fangs. The innocence about him disappears, replaced by a menacing cloud of toxicity. His expression shifts from human to vampire, eyes going cold._

_Max exhales, forcing herself to calm down. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Its just…turning a child is illegal and leaving a freshly turned vampire is just cruel. If you come with me I promise I’ll get you something to eat. We have bagged blood, it’ll help curb your cravings.” Nova stares at her, expression blank. He doesn’t trust her and I don’t blame him, living on the streets will strip a person of their ability to trust. “At the very least, I can teach you how to compel. That way you won’t have to stave yourself.”_

_“Why the fuck should I trust you?” Nova asks, voice like a knife. Max flinches, cautiously lifting her gaze. Nova cocks his head to the side, cutting her deep with whose unnerving eyes of his._

_“You don’t have to trust me right now. Maybe eventually you will, but I have to earn that,” she says softly. Nova scoffs, twisting around to face the door. He starts walking towards it, but Max jumps up and grabs his arm, stopping him. He jerks violently out of her grip._

_“No one touches me without paying! You willing to shell out some Benjamin’s, princess?” he hisses, baring his fangs. My stomach clenches painfully. The look on his face is heartbreaking, devastating._

_To my surprise, instead of backing up, Max pulls him into her arms, holding him tight. He fights for a second, skittish like a wounded animal. But Max shushes him softly and he gives in, closing his eyes and melting into her. She runs a hand up and down his back, doing her best to comfort him._

_“No one is ever going to hurt you again. I promise,” she whispers. Nova’s shoulders shake with silent sobs, his face buried in her neck. “You’re safe.”_

I jolt upright, breathing hard. Blinking rapidly, Allison’s face slowly comes into focus. She pulls me into her arms, sobbing. “I’m so glad you’re okay! We were so worried about you!” She’s hugging me so hard that it hurts, but don’t care. I missed her. She pulls back, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so sorry about your mom. I swear to God I’m going to put an arrow through that bitch. We’ll make her pay,” she says fervently, ebony eyes burning.

“Thanks, Ali. I missed you too,” I say softly, pulling her into another tight hug. Her hair smells like cherry blossoms and gunpowder.

The sound of clanking dishes lets me know that everyone is eating. Allison helps me to my feet, holding me until I am steady enough to stand. I glance into the kitchen. Everyone is seated at the table, busy eating the food that Nova made. I search for him, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“You looking for Nova?” Alison asks gently. I nod, worried; I basically just raped his mind. I wouldn’t blame him for being angry. “He went upstairs to shower.”

“Was he upset?” I ask anxiously.

“No, not at you.” I arch an eyebrow and she continues. “Isaac attacked him. He saw you laying on the couch and assumed Nova hurt you.” I look over, worried that Nova hurt Isaac, but the wolf is fine. He’s busy shoveling Nova’s pancakes into his mouth. Allison chuckles. “It wasn’t much of a fight.”

“I bet not,” I mutter, making her laugh.

“Yeah, Nova kicked his ass and them compelled him to shut up and eat his damn pancakes,” she says with a smile. I study her expression, the quiet awe in her voice when she says his name. Nova intrigues her. “Come on, we saved you some food.” She takes my hand and leads me into the kitchen.

“You okay, baby?” Derek asks as I sit down. He’s seated in between his sister and Stiles, who is laser focused on his pancakes. And I don’t blame him. I’d bet money Nova used Max’s recipe and her pancakes are fucking amazing.

“Yeah. I’m alright,” I say with a smile. Allison watches me as I dish up my plate and cut of a piece of my pancake; as if she’s determined to make sure that I eat. I eat quickly, not really tasting the food. I need to make sure that Nova is okay, that he’s not mad at me. But I know that Allison won’t let me up until I’m done.

Isa says something and Max laughs, drawing my attention off of my food. I spot her sitting a few places away from me, blond curls cascading down her back. She gets up, empty plate in hand. I stand up and walk over to her.

“Hey, Lydia, how are you-” I pull her into my arms, cutting her off. She startles for a moment before hugging me back.

“Thank you,” I say, tears in my eyes. She pulls back, looking me over, brows furrowed in confusion. “You saved him. If you hadn’t taken him in…” I trail off, tears streaming down my face. She reaches up and brushes them away, smiling brightly.

“Marrying Isabel and saving Nova are the best things I ever did. Without them, my life would be meaningless,” Max says, glancing over at her wife. Isa winks at her before turning back to Derek. “I’m glad you see the good in him. Not everyone does.” I pull her into another tight hug. She’s such an amazing person. Not many people would take in a teenage prostitute, let alone one that’s a vampire.

“Your water pressure kicks ass,” Nova says as he struts down the stairs, dressed in black skinny jeans and a Black Veil Brides wife beater. I walk out of the kitchen, cross the living room, and pull him into a hug. He stands still for a moment, perplexed, before tentatively hugging me back. “You okay, baby banshee?” he asks, one eyebrow arched. “See some weird shit on your spirit journey through my fucked up life?”

I laugh, blinking back tears. “Yeah, I’m okay. Are you?” I ask, genuinely concerned. I can still see him crying in the shower, emaciated body heaving with the force of his agony. He went through so much. How is he even coherent right now? If I’d grown up like that, they’d have to lock me up and throw away the key.

He shrugs, pulling out of my arms. “I’m kinda hungry. And my ribs hurt from where-” he looks over my shoulder. “From where dickhead punched me! But other than that, I’m fine.” He makes a point of saying dickhead really loud. Isaac growls furiously and Allison laughs.

“Your pet vampire is a total jackass, Liddy,” Isaac mutter, glancing over his shoulder at me. He glares at Nova, eyes flashing yellow.

Nova bares his fangs. “You’re just jealous because your girlfriend likes me better than you, wolfie,” he says, voice ice cold and smooth. Isaac stands up and starts over to us, growling. Nova steps around me, smiling giddily. I can’t decide if he wants to kill Isaac or tear his clothes off and fuck him.

“Isaac, stand down,” Derek says sharply, stopping the other wolf in is tracks. “Leave him.” Isaac shoots daggers at Nova and then turns around, returning to the kitchen table. Nova laughs wickedly, earning another furious growl from Isaac.

We make our way over to the kitchen, Nova perching himself on the counter. Allison watches him out of the corner of her eye, trying to look like she’s eating. He catches her gaze and smirks wickedly when she blushes. I sit down next to her, finishing what’s left of my pancake.

“So, did you guys come up with a game plan while I was…spirit journeying?” I ask, glancing sideways at Nova, who chuckles. Stiles laughs, endlessly amused by the blunt vampire and his rude sarcasm.

“We’re gonna start looking for her tomorrow,” Derek says, catching my gaze. His deep voice calms me, making me feel safe and protected. “No one goes anywhere alone. If you do see her, don’t attack. Just get out of there and call me. We’re going to do this as a pack, as a family.” I nod, agreeing with him completely.

Stiles looks up from his empty plate, nervously fiddling with his fingers under the table. “How are you?” he asks, voice thick with worry. I grace him with a soft smile, trying to make him feel better. Yes, my mother’s death has left a gaping hole in my heart, but she wouldn’t want me to wallow in it. She’d want me to kill the bitch that hurt her and move on. So that’s what I’m going to do.

“I’ll be better once this day is over and Diana is in pieces,” I say forcefully. Allison reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. I exhale, letting her love for me sink into my bones, steadying my heart.

“We’re here for you. Anything you need,” Kira says with a bright smile. I nod, thanking her silently. I missed her, the happiness that radiates off of her like rays of sun. It’s unlike anything else. Just being around Kira makes me smile. She’s a lot like Stiles in that aspect.

“I brought you a dress. That white one your mother bought you. It was her favorite on you, wasn’t it?” Allison asks, smiling sadly.

“Yeah,” I say, throat tightening as I recall my mother giving it to me. She found it in a little shop along the strip and had it gift wrapped for me, even though it was nowhere near my birthday. She gave it to me and when I asked why, she said it was just because she knew it would look beautiful on me.

Allison takes my hand and leads me upstairs. I hold my breath, trying my best to forget that I’m about to attend my mother’s funeral. She squeezes my hand, instantly making me feel better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, lovelies! Hope you are doing well! Comment and let me know what you thought of this chapter.   
> I have the next one already written and you guys should be excited. ;) If you beg, maybe I'll post it tomorrow. Haha.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm posting this early...because I love you all so much! :)

Allison hands me the dress, carefully folded. I slip it on, letting her zip up the back. Just looking at the white fabric makes me want to burst into tears. But I won’t. I’m determined to be strong, for my mother.

“So, what’d you think of Nova,” I ask, needing to take my mind off of things. Allison sits me down and starts on my hair. I look up at her in the mirror, noting the slight blush in her cheeks. “You like him don’t you?” I ask, giggling.

She gives me a pointed look and closes the door, not wanting anyone with supernatural hearing to overhear us. “No, I don’t. Sure, he’s…interesting, but I love Isaac,” she says defensively, turning on her curling iron. I catch her gaze in the mirror, pursing my lips defiantly.

“You can love Isaac and be attracted to Nova at the same time, Ali. I felt the same way about Stiles and Derek…but now I love them both,” I say plainly. “You’re the one that convinced me I could have both of them.” She nods, keeping her eyes firmly fixed on my hair. I wait for a response, but she remains silent. I’m not really surprised she’s being obstinate; if there’s one word I’d use to describe Allison Argent, it’s stubborn. “Admit it! You’re totally digging his whole punk rock, vampy, fuck-you-up thing. Does that sexy fohawk make you wanna-”

“Fine! I think he’s hot! Is that what you wanted to hear?” she asks, cutting me off. I laugh giddily, loving this. I missed gossiping with her. Boys are great, but I need some girl talk every now and then.

“I knew it! You were totally checking him out earlier.” She makes a point of pulling on my hair. I gasp, glaring up at her. “You know…if you can get Isaac to admit that he’s attracted to dudes then maybe the three of you can…you know…” I arch an eyebrow wickedly, smirking.

“Like that’s gonna happen. He punched that dude that kissed him at Sasha’s party, remember?” Allison asks, twisting my hair up in the curling iron. I nod, vividly recalling the night. We were playing spin the bottle and it ended bloody. “Besides, you’ve only known Nova for like two days. How can you know whether he likes girls or boys…or both?”

I laugh, recalling the vampire talking about getting fucked and doing the fucking. “Oh, he’s bi…I’d bet money on that racehorse,” I say, nodding rapidly. Allison rolls her eyes as me, twisting up a curl and pilling it in place.

“You’ve been spending way to much time with Stiles. His mouth is rubbing off on you,” she says, laughing. I chuckle, agreeing with her. It happens to the best of us. Spend more than an hour with Stiles and you’ll be sassing left and right. It even gets Derek on occasion.

She finishes curling the last lock of my hair, pinning it up to my head. The vintage pin curls make me look elegant and refined. Allison may be something of a tomboy, but she’s got mad skills with a curling iron. Smirking, she pulls a tube of red lipstick from her bag and hands it to me. I uncap the tube, slowly applying it.

Popping my lips, I look up at her. Her eyes are distant, unfocused. “Just be careful okay? Nova’s a total sweetheart, but he’s a loaded gun,” I say with a soft smile. She nods, leading me out of the bedroom, hot curling iron in hand.

Everyone is sitting in the living room dressed in his or her Sunday best; even Nova is suited up, his tie blood red. Derek takes my left hand and Stiles takes my right, leading me to the elevator. We take Nova’s truck to the church, the vampire sitting with Stiles in the back.

The funeral is hard, but beautiful; the church covered in peonies. I cry the whole time, face buried in either Stile’s neck or Derek’s. They take turns hold me, comforting me through the service. John and Melissa both let me know that I will always have a place in their home and Chris, Allison’s dad, promises to help us find Diana.

I’m numb by time we get home. Nova leaves with Max and Isabel, stripping off his tie like it offended him. Allison asks me to go home with her, but I tell her that I needed to be with Stiles and Derek. I feel safe with them. They balm the open wound that is my heart.

“Is it alright if I go for a run?” Derek asks as he shrugs off his suit jacket.

“You don’t have to ask me,” I say with a half-hearted smile. He takes my face I his hands, kissing me softly, slowly. I melt into him, leaning on his strength.

“I don’t really want to leave you, but…” he trails off, eyes burning red. I nod. His wolf is clawing just under the surface, demanding Derek mark us. It needs to happen, and soon, but doing it while Derek’s wolf is upset is a death wish. “Hopefully it’ll calm him down and, before you ask…yes, Scott and Isaac are coming with me.” I smile, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek

He shifts to his wolf form and shakes his dark fur, loping down the stairs. Stiles comes up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I lean back against him, exhaling. He kisses my neck, stubble brushing my cheek provocatively.

“He’s not gonna last much longer,” I say, listening to Derek howl in the distance. Stiles tightens his arms around me.

“You just got back from your mother’s funeral, Lydia. Don’t feel obligated to do anything. I can wait and so can Derek,” he says earnestly, lacing our fingers together. I smile serenely, falling in love with him all over again. Twisting around to face him, I wrap my arms around his neck.

“I love you and I love Derek. I want to be mated to you. It has absolutely nothing to do with obligation.” I kiss him softly, running my fingers through his messy hair. He curls his hands around my hips, teasing the skin where my tank top has ridden up.

He pulls back, kissing his way down the column of my neck. “You sure?” he asks in between kisses.

“Nope, changed my mind!” I giggle, pushing him away from me and running down the stairs. He chases me around for a minute before grabbing my waist and tossing me onto the couch. I laugh as he leans down and kisses me, amber eyes alight with vitality. He’s like a breath of fresh air, mint toothpaste on my tongue.

Stiles and I spend the day lounging around, watching crap TV and eating snack food out of the bag. It’s dark when Derek gets back. We’re lying on the couch, my head on Stiles’ chest, watching My Little Pony. Stiles claimed it would make me feel better and he was right. It’s hard to be unhappy when cute little animated ponies are prancing around in front of you.

Derek grabs a blanket from the back of the couch, wrapping it around his waist. “What the fuck are you watching?” he asks, brows furrowed. I giggle and Stiles burst out laughing. Derek Hale is watching My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, mark your calendars ladies and gentleman.

“It’s My Little Pony,” I say in between fits of giggles.

“Of course it is,” Derek mutters as he goes upstairs to shower. Once the door has shut I turn my gaze to Stiles. He’s looking down at me fixedly, amber eyes steady and wanting.

“He seemed pretty zenned out to me,” he says, glancing up the stairs. “Chill enough to watch My Little Pony, which is saying something.” He chuckles.

“Shower or bed?” I ask wickedly.

“Sex or sex?” He smirks and I roll my eyes, standing up. He follows me, taking my hand and letting me lead him upstairs. We get to the top, looking from the bedroom door to the bathroom door. I bite my lip, glancing over at Stiles.

“Bed?” I ask and he nods, shrugging off his shirt. I strip of yoga pants, eyeing his tattoos as he drops his jeans. I leave my tank top and panties on, pulling off my bra. He glances down at his black and yellow Batman boxer briefs and shrugs, smirking manically.

I walk over and dim the lights to a soft glow, joining Stiles in Derek’s massive bed. He pulls condoms and lube out of Derek’s nightstand, setting them on top of it. I lay down and he settles down next to me, tucking one of his legs between mine. Our lips meet and he buries a hand in my hair, pressing his leg up against my pussy.

We kiss slowly, leisurely. I fist a hand in his hair, our tongues twisting around one another. His lips push and give with mine, a rhythm. Kisses gentle and needy, he makes his way down my neck, giving me a chance to breathe. Wind twists around the room, dancing across the sheets. 

I press my thigh up against this rapidly hardening cock and he groans into my neck. “Vixen,” he whispers, making me giggle. “Derek better hurry up the fuck up.” He pulls at my tank top and I sit up, stripping it off and tossing it onto the floor. Smirking, he leans down to take one of my breasts into his mouth, suckling it. He palms my other breast, rubbing his leg against my pussy, slow and soft. I arch into him, whimpering.

“Fuck if that’s not the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen,” Derek says, voice heavy with lust. Stiles pulls his head back and glances over his shoulder. Derek is leaning against the doorframe, towel wrapped around his waist. I look him over slowly, taking in every inch of his muscular frame.

“How long have you been standing there?” I ask, throat dry.  

“Long enough,” he says, eyes flashing red. “You two sure you wanna do this? If not, I’ll sleep downstairs.” His wolf may be calm, but Derek is inherently cautious. He takes a deep breath, pupils dilating. The room probably smells like mates and sex, an intoxicating mixture that Derek’s having trouble resisting. He cocks his jaw from side to side, expression taut with discomfort. 

Stiles turns and slides off the end of the bed. Derek stands still as Stiles approaches, wary. Stiles takes Derek’s face in his hands and kisses him, rough and fierce. Derek growls into Stiles’ mouth, drops his towel, and shoves the elemental into the wall. Stiles shivers, Derek pressing his leg up against Stiles’ cock. Their tongues twist and give, Derek quickly taking control.

I watch them with heavy lidded eyes, bodies aching deliciously. Derek drops his hand to Stiles’ cock, fondling it through the material. The elemental pulls his head back, breathless. Pupils blown wide, he tips his head back against the wall. Derek takes his hips and twists him around, pressing him to the wall. Stiles groans, his cock flush with the wood paneling.

I drop my hand low, slipping my fingers under my panties to lightly circle my clit. They are gorgeous together, Stiles rotating his hips provocatively, ass pressed against Derek’s cock. Derek drops Stiles’ boxer briefs, smirking when he notices the Batman logo on them. Before Stiles has a chance to breathe, Derek takes hold of his cock, stroking it slowly. The elemental tips his head back, hands on the wall. The air in the room heats up, smelling of pine needles and damp earth.

Derek drops his head, tonguing Stiles’ neck. I press harder on my clit, fingers moving a bit faster, and reach my other hand up to fondle my breast. Heat pools in my stomach, numbing my veins like alcohol. Eyes closed, I roll my head back against the pillow, biting my lip.

“Fuck,” Stiles says, voice deep and throaty. I open my eyes and lift my gaze. They are both standing at the foot of the bed, staring at me lustfully. A little embarrassed, I start to pull my hand out of my panties. “Don’t stop…” Stiles says sensually, amber eyes burning.

I swallow, glancing from Stiles to Derek. The wolf’s eyes are red, trailing down my body in an almost animalistic manner. Licking my lips, I slide my hand back down. Fingers on my clit, I whimper. Derek growls, making me shiver. Clenching my eyes shut, I tip my head back, arching into my hand. My head fogs beautifully, electricity splitting my veins.

Seconds from coming, Derek grabs my wrist, pulling my hand out of my panties. I whimper pleadingly, body flushed with heat. Prying my eyes open, I watch Stiles strip off my panties, gracefully fingers trailing down my feverish skin. Derek fists a hand Stiles’ dark hair and presses the elemental down to my pussy.

Stiles catches my gaze for a fraction of a second, then closes his eyes and goes down on me. He tongues my clit, slow and fierce. Wind kisses my skin, caressing my body with whisper-soft fingertips. I fist my hands in the sheets and arch my back, coming hard. Derek swallows my scream, kissing me forcefully. Breathless and boneless, I exhale into Derek’s mouth. He nips my bottom lip, growling deep in his chest.

Brain fuzzy, I reach over and take hold of Derek’s cock, squeezing lightly as I stroke. He catches my gaze and holds it, red eyes blazing. I run my thumb across his head, making him shudder. Stiles continues to work me over with his tongue, pulling whimpers out of me like he was born to do it.

“Stiles,” I mutter, gaining his attention. He lifts his head, one eyebrow arched. I beckon him forward with a finger. He crawls up my body, leaning down to kiss me. I grab his jaw, pressing him back. “Show Derek that talented mouth of yours.” He smirks arrogantly and I kiss him again, giggling.

He shifts and I drop my hand from Derek’s cock, watching as he replaces it with his mouth. Derek hisses as the elemental takes him deep, sucking softly. I reach up to fondle his Derek’s balls, watching him as he watches Stiles, eyes fixed on the elementals ass.

I run my nails down Stiles’ back, starting at his tattoos. He arches into my touch. The sight makes Derek growl. He turns to look at me, red eyes heavy lidded. I smirk and he bares his teeth, razor sharp. My stomach clenches; I’m not scared, just apprehensive. He looks me over, eyes trailing on my neck, breasts, and pussy.

Stiles pulls back, twisting his tongue over the head of Derek’s cock. The wolf swallows, practically purring. He pulls Stiles back softly, one hand buried in the elemental’s chaotic hair. Stiles licks his lips, looking up at Derek. The wolf smirks, brushing his thumb over Stiles’ bottom lip. I reach over and take hold of his cock; stoking Stiles as Derek leans down to kiss him. He arches into my hand, chest heaving as Derek steals his breath. The air around us pulses, breathes.

Derek pulls back, looking over Stiles and I. “You first, baby,” he says to me. I get up, kneeling next to Stiles. Derek turns his gaze to Stiles, who shivers. “Make her come again…use your fingers.” Stiles smirks, nodding.

They box me in, Derek at my back and Stiles at my front. Derek wraps his arms around me, cupping one of my breasts as he toys with the nipple on my other. I tip my head back on his shoulder and close my eyes.

Stiles trails two fingers between my breasts, down my ribcage, and over my stomach. I arch into his touch, heat flooding my body once again. He takes hold of my right hip and buries two fingers in my pussy. I moan, biting my lip as his thumb circles my clit, fingers moving in and out of me.

I lift my head, catching Stiles gaze. “Kiss me,” I whisper, begging. He releases my hip and lifts his hand to my neck, tilting my head. Then he kisses me, rough and sensual, lips twisting around mine as he tastes me with his tongue. Derek continues to torture my breasts, tweaking my nipples until I’m whimpering into Stiles’ mouth.

Stiles speeds up, thumb pressing harder against my clit, and I come. Derek wraps an arm around me, holding me in place, and buries his teeth in the tendon where my neck meets my shoulder. Pain and pleasure run true, neither overtaking the other. I scream, body flooding with adrenaline and dopamine. It hurts, yes, but it’s far from unbearable, Stiles still fingering my clit.

Derek pulls back, licking the wound rhythmically. I twist around in his arms, taking his face in my hands. His lips are bloody, the crimson liquid dripping down his chin. I trail my finders down the stubble on his jaw, but he refuses to meet my gaze, terrified that he hurt me.

“I’m okay. I promise,” I whisper, leaning down to catch his gaze; his eyes are green once again. He grits his teeth, muscles tight. “It hurt, but not that bad…actually it was kind of a rush.” I smile, trying my best to reassure him.

He reaches up, burying a hand in my hair. “You screamed,” he says softly, green eyes wide with concern.

I smile warmly. “That’s because Stiles hand his fingers inside me. He thinks it’s funny to torture me after I come, don’t you, beautiful.” I glance over my shoulder at Stiles, who winks, smirking arrogantly. I turn back to Derek. “You should spank him,” I say playfully, gesturing to Stiles. Derek laughs loudly, making me smile.

“I’m down for that,” Stiles says with a wicked little laugh. Derek rolls his eyes, but I wouldn’t put it past him. The first time Derek and I kissed he mentioned tying Stiles up. Both of which are things I’d just love to see.

“Your turn,” I say to Stiles, reaching over to grab the condoms and lube. I hand the lube and a condom to Derek, kissing his lips gently.

“I love you, baby,” he murmurs against my lips. I sigh, loving the sound of my nickname on his lips. He flicks his tongue against mine, deepening the kiss. I reach up with my free hand, running my fingers down his neck. I bite his bottom lip and he growls into my mouth, eyes turning red again.

I smile and turn to face Stiles, tearing open the condom and rolling it onto his cock. Derek slides off of the side of the bed and walks around it, tearing open the condom I gave him. He rolls it on as I take hold of Stiles’ neck and pull him down on all fours. He looms over me, hard cock brushing my stomach.

Derek gets up on the bed, kneeling behind Stiles. “How long has it been?” he asks as he runs a hand down Stiles’ butt, cupping his cheek. Stiles shivers, glancing over his shoulder at Derek.

“A while,” he says softly; biting his lip as Derek fingers his hole. Derek pulls back and uncaps the lube, rubbing some on his cock. When he’s done, he puts a little on his finger and slowly starts to stretch Stiles. The elemental grits his teeth, dropping his head into my neck. The air around us drops in temperature, thinning.

Wanting to distract him from his discomfort, I reach down and take hold of his cock, stroking him. I brush my thumb across his head and he arches into me, groaning into my neck.

Before long, Stiles is thrusting into my hand then pressing himself back onto Derek’s fingers. The temperature heats up again, reacting to Stiles. A thin sheen of sweat covers his body. I look over his shoulder at Derek, who nods, letting me know that Stiles is ready. I grace him with a smile then shift my hips up, pressing Stiles’ cock into my pussy. We both moan and Derek growls, enjoying the view. He thrusts into me gently, leaning down to lick one of my nipples.

“Stiles,” Derek says sternly, quickly catching Stiles’ attention. The elemental lifts his head, glancing over his shoulder at Derek. His expression is stern, but loving. “My knot shouldn’t hurt, but I won’t be able to pull out until it goes down. Okay?” 

“Got it, Sourwolf,” Stiles says with a huge smile. Derek gives him a pointed, ‘this is serious’ look and Stiles just laughs. I smack the back of his head lightly, smirking. He whips around to face me, a mock angry look on his face. “It’s not nice to hit the person who just got you off, Lydia.” Derek and I laugh, completely unable to help ourselves.

Our laughter dies down and Stiles kisses me again. He stills against my lips for a moment, Derek entering him. I fist a hand in his hair and pull him in for a deeper kiss, distracting him again. Derek bottoms out, pulls back, and then thrust in. The action sends Stiles deeper into me. Stiles moans, Derek hitting his prostate expertly, and I smile, adoring the sound.

We settle into a rhythm, slow and easy. Stiles reaches down between us and toys with my sensitive clit. I arch up into him, fisting my hands in the sheet as I come. He kisses me, running his tongue along my bottom lip. I drop my head, breathless.

Derek’s thrusts rapidly become desperate, Stiles arching up into him. I clench my core around Stiles’ cock and he comes, groaning loudly. Wind snakes around us, writhing and beating, beachy and hot. Derek comes with a roar, the sound reverberating through me. Eyes glowing in the semi-darkness, he grabs hold of Stiles’ head, tilts it to the side, and buries his teeth in the elemental’s neck.

Stiles shudders against me, body torn, as mine was, between pain and pleasure. Derek pulls back, licking the wound on his mate’s neck gently, lovingly. Stiles shivers, gasping into my neck. I can’t tell, but I’m sure Derek’s knot is swelling within him. The wolf shushes him softly, eyes fading back to green.

Derek takes hold of Stiles’ waist and lifts the boneless elemental off of me. I slide out from under him, eyeing the angry wound on his neck. My own neck is throbbing, but it’s more annoying than painful. Still, the wounds need to be cleaned and dressed.

“I’ll be right back,” I say softly, slipping off of the end of the bed. Derek nods as he carefully lies down on his side, still locked inside of Stiles. The elemental is half-asleep, muscles lax.

I slide out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. Flipping on the light switch, I grab the first aid kit from under the sink. Glancing into the mirror, I grimace when I see the bite mark on my neck. It’s just as bad as the one on Stiles’, deep enough to scar. But I guess that’s kind of the point, marked for life as the mate of an alpha werewolf. The mere though makes me shiver.

I clean the wound, gently rub it with antiseptic, and place a bandage over it. Wetting a washcloth, I walk back into the bedroom. Derek is running a hand down Stiles’ side, whispering soft things to him. I gently step up onto the bed and crawl over to them, first aid kit in hand.

Stiles whimpers as I clean the wound, lashes fluttering. Derek watches me work, adoration in his eyes. He catches my gaze and smiles serenely, wordlessly telling me that he loves me. I smile, rubbing antiseptic on Stiles’ wound and bandaging it gingerly. The air around us cools as Stiles settles, falling asleep.

Setting the first aid kit and the bloodied rag on the nightstand, I twist back around to face them. I glance down to make sure that Derek got rid of Stiles’ condom and then grab the throw blanket that’s currently falling off the end of the bed. I shake it out and toss it over us, burrowing up against Stiles’ warmth.

Derek takes hold of my hip, pulling me in close. I close my eyes, lulled to sleep by the feel of his fingers trailing up and down the small of my back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...did it live up to your expectations? I had way too much fun writing this chapter. Sexy sexy sexy! *blushes*


	28. Chapter 28

I wake up tucked between Stiles and Derek, lying on my back. Stiles is cupping one of my breasts, fast asleep, and Derek has an arm wrapped around me. I smile, blushing at the thought of what we did last night. I’m mated to them. They’re mine…forever. My chest fucking aches with happiness.

Wanting to do something nice for them, I slide out of bed and slip on one of Derek’s t-shirts. Grabbing my discarded panties, I pull them up on as I walk down the stairs. I’d leave them off, but God only knows if there’s someone downstairs making bacon or watching Netflix. Derek really needs to rethink those keys he gave everyone. The last thing I want is Scott McCall walking in on his best friend and his alpha fucking me.

Giggling to myself, I pull open the fridge and grab a carton off eggs and a package of bacon. Lifting two pans from the rack, I set them down on the stove and get to work. Derek may know everyone’s favorite food, from my Coco Puffs to Stiles’ Strawberry Poptarts, but I happen to know his.

Derek’s mother used to make French toast every Sunday because she knew how much me loved it. I know because one morning Stiles and I were arguing the age-old question of pancakes versus waffles, and Derek promptly told us that neither had anything on French toast. Stiles then proceeded to badger him until he finally told us the whole story. He won’t make it himself, I think it hurts him too much, but he’ll eat it if someone else makes it.

Whisking together some eggs and adding cinnamon, I set the bowl aside. I grab the loaf of bread and walk over to Derek’s Bose iphone doc, locating the little music app and pressing it. A song called ‘Bad Intentions’ by Niykee Heaton pops up, the beat steady and sensual. Circling my hips, I return to the stove.

“Damn, Derek,” I mutter to myself, getting a little lost in the song. The lyrics seep into my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

Dipping the bread into the eggs, I start on the French toast. While that’s cooking, I pull out the bacon, cutting the long strips in half the way my mother used to. Smiling to myself, I lay the strips down in the pan. They sizzle excitedly, threatening me like spitting snakes.

I press repeat on the little Bose remote, needing to hear that song again. People that claim they don’t repeat songs over and over again until they know the lyrics are fucking liars. I close my eyes, rocking my head from side to side, hips twisting.

I flip the French toast, singing softly. “I wanna lie awake with your black soul…count your fears if you let me. Baby, I just want your damn bad intentions. I got some damn bad intentions.” Rotating my hips rhythmically, I twist around, intent on grabbing some plates from the cupboard. But I stop short when I see Stiles and Derek lounging on the stairs.

Both barechested, Derek dressed in a pair of low-hanging sweats and Stiles in some red boxer briefs. Stiles is smirking wickedly, leaning back against Derek, whose legs are spread to accommodate the elemental’s upper body. The wolf arches an eyebrow at me, eyes lustful.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “How long have you two been sitting there?” I ask, self-conscious. My singing skills are far from perfect and, though I can dance, I wasn’t dancing the way I would if I knew someone was watching. A blush runs up my cheeks, making me hot.

“The music woke me up,” Derek says, voice deep. He looks me over slowly, eyes trailing on my ass. I bite my lip, getting caught up in his eyes.

“And I woke up when he got out of bed,” Stiles says, glancing up at the wolf. I swallow, running through everything that I’ve done since I woke up.

“So…the whole time then?” I ask, jaw cocked to the side. The nod in unison and I groan loudly, turning back around to flip the bacon. Busying myself with the making more French toast, I ignore them, making a point to keep my mouth shut and my hips still.

“Lydia,” Derek says gently, pulling my attention off of the bacon. Jaw clenched, I turn around to face them. Neither has moved an inch, Stiles’ back still pressed back against Derek’s open legs. The wolf has an arm wrapped around Stiles’ chest, possessive and protective. “There’s a reason we’ve been sitting here for the past half hour.” I arch an eyebrow, wordlessly demanding the answer. He smiles slowly, eyes steady. “You have a lovely voice.”

“And you dance like a fucking angel,” Stiles says, voice low and honest. Derek chuckles, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair. I smile, unable to help myself. They really are incredible, more than I ever could’ve asked for.

Derek presses Stiles up and closes the distance between us, Stiles trailing closely behind. The wolf grabs the Bose remote from the counter, turns up the music, and sets the remote back down. I purse my lips, a little confused. He nudges me toward Stiles, who is leaning against the fridge.

“Derek, what-”

“Dance for me, baby,” he says, whispering into my ear. I shiver unconsciously.

“But the bacon will burn,” I mutter, completely aware that it’s a lame excuse. The truth is, the last time I danced with Stiles was back in high school. Allison begged me to go to the dance with him and spent the entire night staring at Jackson and making snide comments. Stiles deserved better…he still does.

“I’ll watch it,” Derek says softly, glancing over his shoulder at the frying pan.

I exhale, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “I’m not really-”

Stiles grabs my hand and pulls me close, cutting me off. He takes my other hand and places them both around his neck. I link them together. My heart seizes, breath hitching as he grabs my waist, pulling my body flush with his. His hard cock presses against me insistently. My face flushes and I drop my gaze.

“It’s just me, Liddy,” he whispers, breath brushing my ear. “Dance with me.” He twists my hips gently, swaying my body to the beat. I exhale, pushing away memories of the past. I’m not that person anymore.

Dropping my hands to his neck, I melt into him. Derek growls appreciatively as I bend and sway, hips rocking against Stiles. I let the music settle on my shoulders, mimicking the smooth beat with my movements. Stiles moves with me, hand sliding up and down my hips provocatively. My body heats up, heart skipping into overdrive.

Stiles chuckles, making me smile. Feeling sexy, I twist around in his arms, grinding my ass against his cock. He groans, hands skimming up my stomach to cup my breasts. I tip my head back on his shoulder, closing my eyes.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, kissing my jaw.

“I love you,” I whisper, circling my hips slowly. He turns me around in his arms, reaching up to take my face in his hands. I smile, studying his gorgeous eyes. It’s ironic really, an elemental with the amber eyes of a wolf. He buries a hand in my hair and leans down to kiss me, soft and earnest.

Pulling back, he brushes his thumb across my cheek, looking down at me lovingly. “I’ll never get tired of hearing you say that.” I kiss him again, wanting him to know that he’s my world, that he and Derek are everything to me. His tongue darts into my mouth, playful. I run my hand down his cheek, lips moving in sync with the music.

Two muscular arms wrap around me from behind and I pull back, leaning again Derek. “Food’s done,” he says, running his nose up my neck. I turn my head, letting him scent me. He growls, deep and appreciative.

“Thank God, I’m staving,” Stiles says sharply, abandoning us in seconds. I watch him sit down at the table, grabbing an entire stack of French toast.

Derek tightens his arms around me. “You’re incredible,” he says, taking me by surprise. My stomach clenches, embarrassment and confusion overtaking me. I bite my lip, looking over my shoulder at him. He catches my gaze, holding me in place.

“It’s just French toast, Der,” I say with a smile. “I know your mom used to make it for you.” He takes one of my hands, running his fingers over the lines that mar it reverently…religiously. A shiver of pleasure runs down my spine and the wound on my neck throbs.

“It’s not just the French toast, baby,” he says, making me smile. I love it when he calls me that. “Last night could have been a disaster, but it wasn’t…because of you.” I twist around to face him, brows furrowed. He cups my face in his hand, green eyes cutting into me. “You settled my wolf when I was upset. You calmed Stiles while I was prepping him. You cleaned his wound. And you put a blanket over us.”

I swallow, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t-”

“I know. You did every single one of those things without even thinking about them. You may think you’re still the same person you were back in high school, but you aren’t,” he says softly, devotion warm in his voice. I smile, tears filling my eyes. He has no idea how much I needed to hear that. I lean up, kissing him gently.

“Keep making out and I’m gonna eat your bacon,” Stiles says with a laugh. Derek pulls back with a groan, glaring over at the elemental. We cross the kitchen, sitting down at the table. I grab a piece of French toast and Stiles hands me the syrup, smirking. I roll my eyes, knowing exactly what he’s thinking about…me covered in syrup and whip crème.

We eat in silence, half-starved. Derek consumes more than half of the French toast, all the while slipping me sweet smiles. Stiles picks up a piece of bacon and stares at it, happy expression disappearing. I swallow, catching Derek’s gaze and directing it toward Stiles. The wolf’s brows furrow.

“You okay?” I ask, giving him a comforting smile.

He nods, but I’m not convinced. “It’s nothing…something just occurred to me,” he says tonelessly. Derek and I say silent, waiting for him to elaborate. He clears his throat, lifting his gaze. The grief in his eyes stills my heart, making me want to hold him. “If elementals are fireproof, how come my mother died in that car?” he asks, voice soft and child-like. The temperature in the room drops, becoming drastically colder.

Derek lowers his gaze, looking guilty for some reason. I reach over and take his hand, thinking back to that night, to Stiles’ memory. “She had a piece of shrapnel in her stomach, Stiles. She probably bled out,” I say cautiously. He licks his lips, nodding.

“But…I’m fireproof…” he trails off, staring fixedly down at his plate. Derek stands up and walks away from the table, hands shaking at his sides. I quickly realize what’s going on. If Derek had left Stiles in that car and had gotten his mother out instead, Stiles’ mom might still be alive.

“I’m sorry,” Derek says, voice breaking. He puts his hands on the wall and drops his head, chest heaving. Stiles glance over at him, eyes brimming with tears. “I didn’t know. If I had…” he trails of, berating himself silently.

Stiles gets up and walks over to him. I watch, heart in my throat, as Stiles presses himself up against the wolf. “She asked you to save me and you did.” Derek shudders as Stiles runs his hands over the wolf’s body, calming him. “I love you. God…I love you.” Stiles slips under Derek’s arm and pulls him into a tight hug, clinging to the wolf. I smile, tears in my eyes. Derek takes hold of Stiles’ jaw and kisses him, pressing him against the wall.

I grab my plate, take it to the sink, and start clearing the stove. The boys join me a few minutes later. Stiles clears the table as Derek does the dishes. I hop up on the counter, eating a spoonful of peanut butter as I watch them.

“How are your necks?” Derek asks us as he scrubs a plate. Stiles drops the rest of the utensils into the sink and reaches up to pull off his bandage. Derek drops the plate and turns to face Stiles, expression tight with concern. Beneath the bandage is a circular white scar, the wound almost completely healed.

“It doesn’t hurt. How’s it look?” Stiles asks, running his fingers over it.

“It’s healed,” I say, perplexed.

“Really?” Stiles mutters, on eyebrow arched

Derek chuckles, drawing my attention off of Stiles’ neck. “For two people who claim to be experts on werewolves, you don’t know much about us.” Derek walks over to me, gently easing back the collar of his shirt and pulling the bandage from my neck. I run my hand over the scar, tracing its edges.

“Then enlighten us, great wolf god,” Stiles says sarcastically, grabbing his glass of orange juice from the table. Derek growls and I giggle.

“Mating marks heal fast,” Derek says smiling softly. “When a werewolf marks their mate reparative enzymes form in their saliva. So when I licked your wounds…” he trails off, turning back to the dishes.

“So you healed us with your magic spit! That’s awesome!” Stiles says with a laugh, throwing his head back. I giggle and Derek rolls his eyes, busying himself with a cup. “Bottle it up and sell it on the black market, that’s what I’m saying. We could pay for college with werewolf spit, Liddy!” he goes off on a tangent, laughing.

I turn to Derek, catching his gaze. “How are you?” I ask gently. “You seem calmer, but it’s hard for me to tell. Any weird side-effects?”

Derek finishes putting the last dish in the dishwasher and walks over to me, standing between my spread legs. I lift a hand, running it through his hair. “My wolf has never been this content. It’s unsettling,” he says with a smile.

“That’s good. You can’t like hear our thoughts, can you?” I ask, smirking.

He chuckles, shaking his head. “No, but I can sense your emotions. Like earlier when you were upset about dancing with Stiles. I could feel it in my stomach, your guilt.” I nod, brows furrowed. That must be so odd, feeling someone else’s emotions. “I’m also…” he trails off, shaking his head.

I cup his cheek, fingering his stubble. “What?” I ask. He lifts his gaze, blushing ever so slightly. I smile, leaning over to kiss him. “You better tell me before I jump to some weird conclusion.”

He clears his throat, green eyes gleaming menacingly. He takes hold of my hips and pulls me forward, cock pressing hard against my pussy. I inhale sharply, shuddering. He leans down to whisper in my ear. “All I want to do is lock both of you in my bedroom and fuck you until you’re covered in my scent.”

I blush furiously, chest tight. The mark on my neck tingles, throbbing softly as he touches me, reaching up to bury a hand in my hair. He eases his head back and kisses me, going from gentle to demanding in seconds. I gasp into his mouth, tilting my head to give him better access to my mouth. He growls, wrapping his other arm around my back. His stubble scrapes my skin.

Stiles laughs loudly, drawing our attention. Derek pulls back and turns to look over his shoulder. Stiles is sitting on the couch in the living room, watching ‘That 70’s Show’ on Derek’s large plasma. It’s his all time favorite television show. He claims it’s the greatest sitcom of all time and I tend to agree. Fez says something rapidly and Stiles bursts out laughing again, making me smile.

“You realize you’re basically married to him now,” I say with a giggle. Derek chuckles as he lifts me off the counter. We walk over to the couch and sit down on either side of Stiles. The elemental stretches out between us, laying his head in Derek’s lap and pressing his feet against my leg. I put a hand on his calf, relaxing into the couch.

We’ve made it through a few episodes when Nova comes stalking through the front door, dark eyes luminous. Dressed in his signature fashion, biker boots and leather jacket firmly in place. Derek growls irately, eyes flashing red.

Nova struts over to us, looking highly agitated. There are dark circles under his eyes, something I’ve come to associate with him being hungry. I stand up and walk over to him, worried. Derek growls again, but I shush him. I could care less if Nova sees me in my underwear.

“How long has it been since you fed?” I ask gingerly.

He hisses, baring his fangs. Derek stands up and prowls over to us, intent on ripping Nova to shreds. But, before he can touch the vampire, I put my hand on his chest and press him backwards. He backs down, surprising me until I remember what he said about a werewolf’s mates having control of their wolf.

“Nova won’t hurt me, you know that,” I say fiercely, looking deep into his crimson eyes. He glares over my shoulder at Nova, who scoffs at him.

I turn back to Nova, who’s busy returning Derek’s glare. Irritated, I step between them, breaking Nova’s line of sight. I give him a pointed look and he grits his teeth, fangs slicing into his lower lip. My heart skips a beat, stomach clenching painfully.

“I was out looking for some breakfast when dickhead attacked me! Stupid fucking wolf clawed me and then threw me out of a third story window!” he hisses, baring his bloody fangs. Why would Isaac attack him? I know that they aren’t the best of friends, but still.

“Let me see,” I say softly, wanting to make sure that he is okay. I don’t know much about vampires, but I’m sure they don’t heal as well when they haven’t fed. I step towards him and he steps back, eyeing me warily.

“I’m fine, baby banshee,” he says pointedly. I shake my head in disbelief. He’s not fine. Underneath his leather jacket, his grey v-neck is in bloody tatters. But for some reason he won’t let me near him. A sudden, violent image of him standing, naked and scarred flashes before my eyes. I stop my advance, feeling like an idiot.

“You sure? We can go upstairs if you want to,” I say, smiling reassuringly.

He shakes his head. “I’m good. I just need to feed.” His voice is raw and scratchy. He looks sick, exhausted.  

“Here,” I say, lifting my hand and baring my wrist to him. Derek growls, deep and animalistic. “Stiles, will you take Derek upstairs?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder at Stiles. He nods, grabbing Derek’s arm and pulling him up the stairs. Once they are gone, I gesture for Nova to sit down. 

“You sure?” he asks as I sit down next to him, wrist held out. I nod, smiling encouragingly. He inhales deeply, reaching up to take hold of my wrist. His hands are cold, but soft. Tentatively, he lifts my wrist to his mouth. There’s a tiny prick of pain, like a set of needles, followed by a rhythmic sucking sensation.

I watch TV while he feeds, surprised at how normal it seems. Then again, I am mated to a werewolf and an elemental. So I guess feeding a vampire my blood while I watch ‘That 70’s Show’ isn’t that weird.

After ten minutes or so, he pulls back and runs his tongue over the bite marks. They close up in seconds. I think back to Stiles’ idea about bottling up their spit and selling it, deciding that we would make a fucking killing. Nova wipes his hand over his mouth, clearing it of blood.

“Thanks,” he says, exhaling. I turn to look at him. His eyes are brighter, far more alert, and the dark circles under them are gone.

“You’re welcome,” I say with a smile. “It wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it was gonna be.”

He chuckles. “Because that’s what every man wants to hear.” I laugh and he smiles, flashing his fangs. It’s amazing what some blood will do for his personality. One minute he’s wordlessly threatening an alpha werewolf and the next he’s making jokes.

“So…why did Isaac attack you?” I ask, glancing down at his bloodstained shirt. The wounds beneath it look to have healed, but I can’t tell for sure. I’d like to get a look at them, but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.

“Fuck if I know! But it sure as shit wasn’t to get my double chocolate chip cookie recipe,” Nova says heatedly.

I click my tongue a few times, thinking. “Isaac has a temper, yes, but he wouldn’t attack someone for no reason. Did you threaten him or…say something about Allison?” I ask, remembering the way they went at it yesterday. Yes, tempers were running high, but it wasn’t to the point of throwing people out windows.

“All I said is that his girlfriend likes me better than him. Which is true, by the way. Honestly, who wouldn’t like me better than him? Dude’s a total assface! He thinks he’s so fucking-”

“Nova!” I yell, cutting off his rant.

“What! It’s true,” he says furiously, running a hand down his face.

“And he didn’t say anything when he attacked you?”

“Nope. Fucker just growled at me. Which would be sexy…if he’d been fucking me instead of tossing me out a window!”

“How long ago was this?” I ask, glancing over at the door. If Isaac is on the warpath he’s bound to show up here eventually. There’s a reason he’s Derek’s best hunter, he goes hyper-focused…kill or be killed. He’s also got serious anger issues, going from quiet to killer in seconds. If he wants Nova dead, he won’t stop until it happens.

“I came here right after it happened. Figured maybe Derek could put him in puppy pound or some shit. Dude seriously needs a time out. Say one thing about his girlfriend and he throws you out a window. Who the fuck does that?” Nova exhales exasperatedly, groaning.

“Why didn’t you just compel him to stop?” I ask, eyes narrowed.

“I was trying to be polite. He’s your friend,” he says tonelessly. “That’s the last time I’m ever being nice! I broke my back when I hit the cement and I think I gave a lady a heart attack. She’s gonna need years of therapy.”  

I stand up and walk over to the table next to the front door, grabbing my purse. I dig through it until I locate my phone. I find Allison’s number and am just about to push send when the front door swings open, shaking on its hinges.

Isaac comes storming into the house, eyes glowing yellow. He zeros in on Nova and stalks forward, teeth bared. Nova stands up and flashes his fangs. Isaac growls, the sound reverberating around us, and Derek comes running down the stairs, eyes red. Stiles trails behind him, struggling to get a shirt over his head.

Nova’s irises dilate, eyes fixed on Isaac. “Stop,” he says curtly. Isaac stills, muscles locked into place. “Tell me what this is about.”

“What did you do to Allison?” Isaac growls, limbs shaking as he struggles to break Nova’s compulsion. My throat tightens up, fear cutting through me. “I can’t find her anywhere! What the fuck did you do to her?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday, Lovelies! Hope you had a good week. Mine sucked, I got pulled over for speeding...I was late for my Native America lit class. And then I lost my credit card and had to spend two hours at the bank. Needless to say, I am in serious need of some extra love...so comment are extra appreciated. LOVE YOU!!!


	29. Chapter 29

Nova’s dark brows furrow, confused and concerned. “I haven’t seen Allison since the funeral. I didn’t hurt her. I wouldn’t,” he says forcefully. Isaac’s glares the vampire, blue eyes seething. Nova stalks over to him, tension palpable in the air between them. Though Nova is nearly as tall as Isaac, the wolf is twice as wide, Nova’s slim frame contrasting Isaac’s beautifully.

“Why the fuck should I believe you, vampire?” Isaac asks, throwing Nova’s species at him as if it were a dagger. Nova doesn’t even flinch, his dark eyes boring holes through Isaac. Once again, I can’t decide whether they want to fight or fuck, not that the two are mutually exclusive.

Isaac growls, more scared than angry. I exhale unsteadily, picturing my mother’s body lying on the ground. Diana has Allison. I know she does. She told me this would happen after she killed my mother. She warned me and I didn’t listen. I start to panic, fear rising inside of me like a storm.

“Believe whatever you want, wolf! But know this…” He invades Isaac’s personal space, placing his face inches from the wolf’s. “If you touch me without my permission again, I will kill you. Is that clear?” he asks, charcoal eyes tearing into the Isaac like diamonds. “Well, is it?”

Isaac nods, jaw clenched tight. Nova’s eyes dilate, the vampire wordlessly releasing Isaac from his compulsion. Nova turns away from him, walking over to stand in the corner of the room. Isaac watches him. There’s something in his eyes, something along the lines of concern or curiosity. He may act like he hates Nova, but he doesn’t know him well enough to hate him. The vampire is something of a puzzle. One look at him and all you want to do is put him back together.

“When was the last time you saw her?” Derek asks, slipping into alpha mode.

“At the funeral,” Isaac says rapidly, words spilling out of his mouth. “She went back to her apartment for the night. When I went over to pick her up for breakfast this morning, Kira said that she never came home.” He starts to pace, fisted hand shaking at his sides. “Her phone’s turned off and her dad hasn’t seen her since yesterday. He and John are at the police station filing a missing person’s.”  

“Where are Scott and Kira?” Derek asks.

“Last I checked they were headed to the archery range. She goes there when she’s upset,” Isaac clenches and unclenches his fists, struggling to keep his rabid wolf in check. Acting on instinct, I cross the room and take him into my arms. He resists for a moment before giving him, exhaling shakily.

“We’ll find her,” I say fiercely, holding him tight. Much like Stiles, Isaac has serious abandonment issues. His mother ran out on them when he was little, his abusive father was killed in a kanima attack, and his brother died in Iraq. He doesn’t have any family left and it isn’t easy for him to let people in. It’s one of the reason’s he loves Allison so much, because she knows him. “We won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.” He pulls back, nodding solemnly.

I turn to face Derek, who’s on the phone. “Well find her, Chris. No, we have no proof of that. Yes.” He pauses for a moment, jaw clenched. “If Diana did take her, at least we have something to go off of. We know what Diana wants.” Derek glances over at me, the look on his face plainly says, ‘no fucking way I’m handing you over to her.’ He can try and stop me, but if it comes to that, I will give myself up to save Allison. She’s my best friend.

I swallow anxiously, looking over at Stiles. He’s staring at me, eyes ice blue. Dark storm clouds come rolling over the horizon behind him. In seconds, it starts to rain. Massive sheets of water throttle the windows as lightning splits the skyline. The air in the loft drops, turning cold. I shiver, walking cautiously over to him.

“Stiles,” I whisper. The elemental continues to stare at me, or rather through me, but he doesn’t say a word. I glance over at Derek. The wolf is still on the phone with Chris, distracted. Sensing Stiles’ distress, he looks over at me. I nod, letting him know that I’ve got it. “I’m not going anywhere, okay. And we’re gonna find Allison. I promise.”

He doesn’t respond. Thunder tears through the air, shaking the building with its roar. Tentatively, I reach up, placing my hand on Stiles’ chest. His heartbeat is so slow that it’s almost nonexistent. He stands still, expression torn. It’s not like it was in Colorado, he hasn’t succumbed to his elemental nature, at least not completely.

“I’m not going to leave you,” I whisper, tucking myself up against his chest. I murmur to him softly for a few minutes, trailing a hand down his neck. Eventually, he buries a hand in my hair, pulling me in closer.

“Are you okay, Liddy? I’m sorry,” he says, voice thick with worry. It continues to rain, speaking to his distraught mental state. He’s terrified that Diana is going to kill Allison and worried that I will trade my life for hers.

I pull back, giving him a reassuring smile. His eyes have returned to normal, calming me. “It wasn’t your fault.” He glances over his shoulder at the rainstorm, brows furrowed and body tense. Out of all of us, Stiles has the most power. But, unlike the rest of us, he has no way to control it. If he sets a hospital on fire, it’s because nature intended it to happen.

“You okay?” Derek asks Stiles, coming up to stand behind me.

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters, but Derek looks unconvinced. The storm raging outside proves that Stiles is far from okay. Derek places his hand on the small of my back, gaining my attention. “Isaac and I are gonna go meet Scott, Isa, and Max at your apartment, see if we can catch a scent.”

“Alright, call me if you find anything,” I say quickly.

He nods, leaning down to kiss my cheek. “You got it, baby.” I smile half-heartedly, worried. He looks Stiles and I over, a fierce protectiveness in his eyes, and then disappears out the door with Isaac.

“I’m gonna go help my Dad at the police station. You wanna come?” Stiles asks, grabbing his keys from the coffee table. 

I glance over at Nova, who’s staring fixedly out the window. He’s a vampire. He can do things a werewolf wouldn’t dream of. Things like locating my best friend in the midst of a banshee cult.  

“No, go ahead.” Stiles starts towards the door, grabbing his red jacket along the way. “Stiles.” He looks over his shoulder at me, already in detective mode. “Be careful,” I say softly, petrified with fear. What if Diana takes him too?

He walks over to me and leans down, kissing me gently. “I’ll be fine, Liddy. It’s not like I’m gonna be alone. I’m sure Kira’s already at the station, giving everyone sandwiches and pep talks.” I giggle and he smiles. Only Stiles could make my laugh at a time like this. I nod curtly and he leaves the loft with a swirl of wind.

Turning around, I find Nova standing a few feet from me. His face is blank, impassive. I exhale shakily, a throbbing pit forming in my stomach. Nova arches his neck, a vicious glint in his coal-black eyes. “Why didn’t you go with him?” he asks, voice smooth and velvety.

“You already know the answer to that question,” I say, lips pursed. Diana is smart. She probably covered up their scents, making it impossible for the wolves to track them. If Nova can’t find her, Allison’s dead. He has to help me. He made a blood oath. That means he has to help me find her, doesn’t it? I swallow, teeth clamped shut.

He chuckles humorlessly, shrugging. “You’re lucky I like Allison. Other than you, she’s the only person in your pack that’s not scared of me.” The hurt in his voice slices away at me. I’ve never seen anyone hide their heart the way Nova does, behind his punk wardrobe and his smart mouth. It really is something else.

“You can find her, can’t you?” I ask, voice cracking with emotion. I don’t know what I’ll do if Diana kills her too. I can’t lose my mother and my best friend. I can’t.

He nods and I exhale in relief. “I just need one thing,” he says tersely. I arch an eyebrow and he continues, “I need her blood. Find me something with her blood on it and I’ll go after her. You’ll have her back before dinner.” His confidence is both comforting and unsettling.

I run through things Allison might’ve bled on, coming up dry until I remember that she boxes at gym across town. There’s bound to be some blood on the clothes in her gym bag, or maybe on the wraps she uses for her hands.

“I’ve got an idea. Max had someone from your coven drive my car over, right?” I ask, remembering Derek mentioning it. Grabbing my car was the last thing on my mind when we left that hotel in Colorado. Nova nods. “Good. Meet me in the parking lot. I need to get dressed,” I say, glancing down at myself. When I look up, he’s gone, presumably already waiting for me outside. 

I run upstairs, dressing rapidly, and grab my purse. Keys in hand, I make my way down to the parking lot. Nova is leaning against my car, black clothing seemingly absorbing the sunlight. I unlock the car and we get in, speeding off down the road.

If Derek knew I was going behind his back on this he’d be pissed. Part of me thinks I should tell him. But I can’t risk it. Derek would attack head-on attack and I’d be left with two dead mates. Nova, on the other hand, is a master at stealth. He’ll have Allison back here before Diana notices that the window’s cracked.

As I drive, Nova remains painfully quiet, eyes fixed on the road ahead of us. His expression is blank, body tense. He almost looks angry, except for the fact that he’s chewing on his lip rings. It’s a nervous habit of his, one that’s very telling. He cares about Allison, how much I’m not sure. But he does.

“It’s okay to be worried about her, Nova,” I say softly, pulling my car into the apartment building’s parking lot. He glances over at me and then gets out of the car without saying a word. “She’s worth caring about,” I whisper as we ascend the stairs. When we reach my apartment I pull out my keys and unlock the door, stepping inside.

I cross the living room and push open the door to Allison’s room. It’s elegantly decorated in greys and blacks, with hints of purple here and there. I smile, spotting her bow laying delicately in its case. There’s a picture of her parents sitting on the side table, reminding me of the one Nova had on his.

I scan her floor until I locate her black gym bag. Grabbing it, I sit down on her bed and unzip it. Frantically, I dig through the clothes until I find what I’m looking for, the wraps she uses for her hands. They’re not covered in blood, but there is blood on them. I just hope it’s hers.

Wraps in hand, I look up at Nova, who is stand in the doorframe. His eyes are fixed on a picture of Allison and Isaac that’s sitting on the dresser. Nova’s expression is almost pained, dark eyes filled with grief and regret. I stare at him, brows furrowed. Why does he look like he just lost someone?

“You okay?” I ask gingerly. He turns to look at me, expression shifting like the body of a snake. In seconds his eyes are empty, focused.

“Give it to me,” he says, stepping into Allison’s room, hand held out. I give him the wrap and he untwists it expertly. I guess Allison’s not the only one who likes to throw down in the ring.

“How will you know it’s her blood?” I ask, standing up.

He lifts the wrap up, but instead of smelling the fabric he places it close to his mouth and inhales. His pupils dilate completely, darkness overtaking his eyes. The look on his face is all sex, all pleasure. He drops his hand, revealing his wicked set of fangs, fully extended. He blinks rapidly, regaining control of himself, and then looks over at me. “Gunpowder and cherry blossoms…sexy as fuck,” he says, rapping the fabric around his hand.

“So…it’s her blood then?” I ask, clearing my throat awkwardly. He nods, tonguing his fangs. I walk past him into the living room, twisting around to face him. “Can you find her with that?”

He smirks arrogantly. “I’ll have her back by dinner time, baby banshee,” he says, baring his fangs like a fucking pit viper. I exhale, in awe of him. He’s insane, there’s no disputing that, but damn if he doesn’t make it work for him. “As payment, I’d like lasagna and garlic bread…make it with love.” He winks and then starts toward the door.

“Nova.” He glances over his shoulder at me. “Please be careful.”

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing,” he says, clenching his fingers around Allison’s wrap. I drop my gaze, nodding. “Oh…and, Lydia.” I look up. He catches my gaze, expression tender. “I know she’s worth it, but I’m sure as hell not.” The agony in his eyes strips me bare. I take a step toward him, ready to argue with him, but he disappears before I can say a word.

“Dammit, Nova!” I yell. But he’s long gone, leaving me standing in an empty apartment with an aching void in my stomach. I trust that he’ll be able to save Allison, but who’s going to save him?

I head back the Derek’s apartment, busying myself with calling the college and rescheduling my exams. Once I’m finished with that, I pull out every type of cleaner Derek has under his sink and proceed to clean the entire loft. The sun drops as I work and, by the time I’m done, it’s late in day. I’m exhausted, but I can’t sleep. I can’t even close my eyes for fear of what I might see.

Remembering Nova’s request, I pull out some hamburger and a box of noodles, intent on making the best lasagna he has ever had. I turn on some music and get to work, clearing my mind and focusing on what I’m doing right now. Nova will bring her back…I know he will.

I finish the lasagna and the garlic bread, set the table, and sit down. I spend the next six hours staring at the clock, watching minutes crawl by. At half past one, I wrap lasagna with tin foil, put the garlic bread in a plastic bag, and place everything into Derek’s fridge. I’m halfway up the stairs when I fall apart, slumping down the wall with my head in my hands.

They’re dead. Allison and Nova are both dead. I got them killed. If I had just gone to my mother in the first place none of this would’ve happened. They would still be alive. Tears stream down my face as I picture them lying next to one another, blood running out of their ears. Nova’s charcoal eyes fixed, blank and empty, on Allison’s ebony curls. I can’t breathe. They’re dead. I got them killed.

“Lydia.” I lift my head, vision blurred with tears. Stiles is standing a few stairs down, eyes bloodshot. I choke, expecting him to tell me that he found their bodies… that they were laying in the woods just like my mother. “C’mere,” he says softly, lifting me into his arms. I bury my face in his neck as he carries me up the stairs.

He lays me down on the bed, strips off his t-shirt, and settles down next to me. I cling to him, hands fisted against his chest. He holds me tight, running a comforting hand through my hair.

“They’re dead. I got them killed,” I sob, body shaking.

He shushes me gently. “This isn’t your fault. You don’t chose your parents,” he whispers. “Ali is gonna be okay. Derek will find her.” I bury my face in my hands, crying harder. Derek won’t be able to find her, but he’ll run himself to death trying; because he’s my mate and he loves me. “We’ll find her.”

“No we won’t,” I mutter, pulling out of his arms. “They’re dead…everyone I love dies!” I walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs. Sobbing, I lock myself in the bathroom.

“I know you’re scared, Liddy. I’m scared too,” Stiles says, on his knees outside the bathroom door. I slide down the wall, wrapping my arms around my legs.

“I’m not scared, Stiles. I’m fucking terrified!” I yell, voice raw and broken.

“I know, baby. Just come out. We’ll go upstairs and get some-”

“If I go to sleep…she’ll make me watch! She’ll make me watch while she kills them! And then she’ll tell me that it was my fault, because it is! The people I love are dying because I won’t leave them. That’s fucked up!” I scream, my voice echoing around the little bathroom. In seconds, my anger dissolves back into sadness and I’m crying, hands fisted in my hair.  

“This isn’t your fault,” he says and, though he believes that’s the truth, I sure as hell don’t. Diana is my mother. She’s the one who’s killing people. And I’m the one who’s just letting it happen. That makes this my fault.

There’s a loud thud followed by the sound of footsteps. I scramble towards the door, worried about Stiles. “What the fuck is going on? It feels like my chest cavity’s caving in. My wolf has never been this upset!” Derek says sharply. Exhaling in relief, I slide back against the shower door. “Is Lydia in there?”

“Yeah,” Stiles mutters, sounding exhausted.

Derek growls, the sound setting my rapidly beating heart. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asks, pounding on the door. I clench my eyes shut, sending fresh tears down my cheeks. “Come on…tell me you’re alright because it doesn’t feel like you are. Dammit, Lydia, it feels like I’m having a fucking heart attack.” My chest lurches, breath hitching painfully as I struggle to breathe.

“I’m fine. Just go to bed,” I whimper, staring down at my shaking hands.

“Did she see something?” Derek asks Stiles, voice gruff with worry.

“No, but she’s worried that she will.” He sounds exhausted, like he’s been up for three days straight. I swallow hard, wanting to curl up in bed with him until he falls asleep. More than anyone, Stiles deserves to be loved.

“Hey,” Derek whispers. “Go get some sleep. I’ve got this.”

“She needs me here,” Stiles says obstinately. I can just see them, Derek cupping Stiles’ face in his hands, the elemental unconsciously leaning into his touch.

“No, she needs you to find her best friend. And you won’t be able to do that if you don’t sleep. Go…I’ll take care of her,” he says, deep voice soothing and calm.

“Fine, but if she needs me-”

“I know,” Derek says sternly. I listen to the sound of Stiles’ footsteps as he walks up the stairs. How long until Diana kills him too? I’m weak, letting the people I love die while I sit crying in a bathroom. “We’ll find her, baby. I promise we’ll find her.”

“No…we’ll find her body…” I say, crying softly. He growls, a quiet warning.

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It will and you know it!” I say irately. “Just leave, Derek.”

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he growls, voice filled with devotion.

“Why!” I yell. “You worried that I’m gonna turn myself over? God forbid I save your lives!” I brush the tears from my face, wanting to smash something. This is so fucked up!

“Yes. That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” he says bluntly. Screaming, I grab a shampoo bottle and throw it at the door.

“Who the fuck cares, Derek! So what if I’m gone! You’ll still have Stiles. And I’m sure you two can find some cute co-ed to take my place,” I say viciously, teeth clenched tight. He growls, the sound all wolf. “It’s the truth!”

He grabs hold of the door handle, breaking it open. The door swings inward, revealing him standing in the doorway, eyes gleaming red. His fists are shaking at his sides, an irate tic in his jaw. He takes two steps toward me, but I stop him with a glare, standing up.

I try to step around him, but he moves in front of me. Furious, I put my hands on his chest and shove him away from me. “I’m not going anywhere! How I could I when you’re playing prison guard?” I scream, stalking past him.

“Dammit, Lydia! You’re not replicable! You and Stiles are my mates! You’re mine! I’d die before I let anything happen to you,” he yells, following me into the living room.

I twist around, getting right up in his face. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of! How many others have to die, Derek? Diana will kill every single one of you…until I’m alone, until I have no one left!”

“Going to her isn’t going to save us! I’m sure eradicating the werewolves is the first thing she’s got planned to do. And don’t think she’ll spare Stiles, because she won’t. No, she’ll use him like a weapon…just like she intends to use you,” he says, throwing the truth at me like knives. I step away from him, throat aching painfully.

“Just go to bed, Derek. I’ll stay under house arrest,” I mutter, turning away from him. He watches me as I walk over and slump down on the couch, grabbing the remote. I turn on the TV, staring blankly at it. He stares me for what feels like hours, eyes boring into me. But I keep my gaze on the screen, ignoring him. “I wasn’t lying! You would’ve heard it if I was,” I say without looking at him.

He exhales, finally caving. “I love you, baby,” he says earnestly. Tears brim in my eyes, but I blink them away. “You and Stiles are my life…my everything.” I swallow, struggling to hold back my tears. Fuck him for being so amazing. God, I love him. “I’ll die if I lose you.” He turns and walks up the stairs.

I’m sobbing into a blanket by the time he gets upstairs. I listen to their muffled voices, clenching my eyes shut as they start to argue. Stiles has been awake the whole time, listening to us.

“No! I’m not going to just sit here, Derek! Not when she’s like that. She needs us!” Stiles yells, voice frayed and raw. The rain coming down outside worsens, lightning illuminating the loft. I whimper, tightening my grip on the blanket. “Let go of me!” Thunder echoes through the house, shaking the dishes in the kitchen.

“Trust me on this, Stiles,” Derek says forcefully. I expect Stiles to fight him, to burn the building down. But, for once, he actually listens. The loft goes silent, broken only by the rain falling outside.

It’s five in the morning when I finally fall asleep, sitting up against the bottom of the couch. I fight it, but my eyes are burning and I can’t focus on anything. Sleep takes me quick and sharp, like a well-aimed bullet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, darlings! Hope you all are having a great weekend! Thanks for all the lovely comments you left last week. They made me feel a million times better.   
> So, what did you think of this chapter? I might be persuaded to post another this weekend, but only if you ask nicely. Haha. ;)


	30. Chapter 30

\- Allison -

 

“You think you can break me, bitch?” I yell, agony coursing white-hot through my veins. “I’m an Argent! I’ve sliced the heads off things ten time worse than you!” The blond banshee scowls at me, twisting the bloody knife in her hand.

“Oh, I know who you are,” she says softly, voice mellifluous and sugar-sweet. I sneer at her, wishing I had my bow. The bitch could use a few arrows through her neck. “And I know what your family does.” She smiles as she slices the knife across my bare abdomen. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, tears running down my face.

“That the best you got? What, no foreplay?” I ask, earning another vicious slash from the blade. Hot blood runs down my legs, pooling into the thin cuts she made on my thighs. This has been going on for hours. She leaves and then she comes back, psychotic glint in her ice-blue eyes.

“But you’re not your family, right, Allison?” she says with a shrill little laugh. I roll my eyes and spit blood on the floor at her feet. She grimaces in disgust, but keeps her eyes on me. “I mean…you’re with a werewolf. Quite a disgrace if you ask me. But he is handsome. Couldn’t resist those curls, could you?” I sneer at her, wanting to rip her face of for even mentioning Isaac.

“I’m going to kill you. I’m gonna shove a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger. Now that’s poetry, don’t you think, banshee?” I ask, smirking wickedly at her. She arches her neck, looking like every bitchy cheerleader I’ve ever met. Great, looks I’ve been abducted by the queen bee and her bitch quad.

“You think you’re funny?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.

“Pretty much,” I say with a humorless laugh. She slashes the knife down my side, from my ribs to my hip, and I scream. She giggles, lifting the knife to show me the blood running down its hilt. I gasp, vision blurring as pain overtakes me. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. My father taught me how to endure torture, but there’s a difference between knowing and feeling.

“I think I’ll ask Diana if we can go after your wolf next. I’d like to cut off a piece of him, if you know what I mean,” she says with a suggestive wink. I struggle against the shackles wrapped around my wrists, fresh blood running down my forearms. I won’t let her get her hands on him. No one’s ever going to hurt him again. She giggles, clapping giddily like a child presented with a toy. “Or maybe I should volunteer your father. I hear he’s in need of a good woman.”

“You! You stay the fuck away from him! Stay away from both of them or I swear to God, I’ll slice you into little pieces and put you through a wood chipper!” I scream, yanking hard against the chains. She burst out laughing, blond curls bouncing manically. “What? You don’t believe me?”

“Nope…not even a little bit,” she says, a twinkle in her eye.

I lean in, placing my face inches from hers. She watches me, smirking. “Well you should…because I don’t fuck around. You’re messing with my family. And nothing! Nothing is more sacred to me than family!” I say ferociously. She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but I know that I scared her because she takes a hesitant step away from me. 

She slices the knife across my outer thigh. I hiss sharply, clenching my eyes shut. Remembering my training, I focus on a safe place, pretending I’m lying in bed with Isaac. We’re watching Netflix. I’m leaning back against him, his arms wrapped protectively around me.

“You’re just a filthy human. What can you do?” she asks, trying to regain some of the ground she just lost.

I tip my head back, groaning exaggeratedly. “Well for one, I can kill you,” I say sardonically. She sneers at me, taking me right back to ninth grade. I wonder briefly if everyone in Diana’s cult is a fucking sorority girl. What’d she do, raid a Kappa Gamma Beta store?

“I doubt-”

“Look what I just caught,” a woman says, cutting the blond off. I peer through the semi darkness. Her red heels come first, quickly flowed by the rest of her. I gasp when I see her face. Her resemblance to Lydia is fucking uncanny. Same red hair, same high cheek bones, same gorgeous figure. But where Lydia’s eyes are a beautiful hazel, Diana’s are red-brown. Her lip is bleeding, there’s a vicious bite mark on her neck, and her shoulder looks dislocated. But she’s smiling like she just won the lottery…someone needs to take her crazy pills.

She twirls a chain hand around her dainty hand, pulling on it. I watch in horror as two banshees carry an unconscious Nova down into the basement. He’s got something locked around his face. It’s almost a cage, but not quite. There’s a dark strip of leather covering his eyes, preventing him from compelling. The rest of the mask is comprised of four large metal spikes, jutting upward from his chin. It’s a vampire muzzle, stopping him from biting. I grit my teeth, overcome with fury.

Diana gestures at the wall across from me. The banshees drag him over and lock him up: wrists, neck, and feet. Once he’s properly caged, they step back. His body sags, manacles cutting into his pale wrists. Blood runs from the cuts, slithering down his forearms. I watch it, fixedly, noting the little circular scars that pockmark his inner arms. They’re cigarette burns.

My throat dies up, heart breaking for him. I exhale unsteadily, wanting to simultaneously hold him and hunt down the bastard that did that to him. No one deserves to be treated like a damn ashtray, especially not Nova. I haven’t known him for very long, but Lydia trusts him and that’s more than enough for me.

“So you do know him,” Diana says, reaching over to brush a tear from my cheek. I gnash my teeth at her and she jerks her hand back, eyes wide. “Well you’re a little devil, aren’t you?”

“You have no idea!” I yell, glaring at her. This is the woman who killed Lydia’s mother. This is the woman who killed Deaton. I’m going to make her pay for what she has done. If anyone deserves to be put though a wood chipper, it’s Diana.

She smiles at me, teeth dazzlingly white. “You’re quite the little spitfire. I can see why my daughter loves you so,” she says, sounding like an heiress.

“Lydia’s not your daughter! You killed her mother!” I say ferociously, eyes cutting holes through her. Her fake smile slips for a fraction of a second before she sticks it back on, giggling softly. “You think this is funny, bitch?” I yank hard on my chains.

She gives me a pointed look, like a mother about to scold her child. “Now, now, that’s some nasty language you’ve got there. You and Lydia have spent far too much time with animals…like this one here.” She gestures to Nova, lips pinched in disgust. I pull harder against my chains, wishing I could wrap one around her pretty little neck.

“You’re the animal!” I hiss, loathing the way that she’s looking at Nova.

She smiles, eyes flitting from me to him. “Oh…this is rich! You like him, don’t you! What would your cute little boyfriend think if he knew you wanted to spread your legs for this bloodsucker?”

“Fuck you.” I spit the words at her, wanting to rip her to shreds. Still, there’s a tiny part of me that knows she’s right. If Isaac ever finds out about my feelings for Nova, I’m screwed. Isaac is just as territorial as any other wolf and Nova isn’t one to back down. They’ll kill each other before I have a chance to get a word in.

Diana chuckles, smirking at me like she knows something I don’t. “It’s not lady-like to swear. Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?” she asks, taking the knife from the blond banshee.

“My mother’s dead. And who the hell said I was a lady?” I say tonelessly, watching her finger the bloodstained knife. She smiles, seemingly amused by my jab. I roll my eyes, groaning exaggeratedly. We’re her puppets, this is a game, and she’s playing with us.

She turns and walks over to Nova, knife in hand. I struggle against my chains. If she hurts him I’m going to destroy her. “I figured my daughter would send her pet after you. So I took precautions,” she says running the knife down one of the spikes on Nova’s muzzle. “The media has it all wrong, you know, it’s not Vervain that weakens vampires, it’s Nightshade. Luckily, it’s not harmful to banshees,” she says pointing at her neck. I sneer at her; what a sneaky little bitch. “It’s too bad the mask can’t be helped…he really does have quite the face. From what I hear, he used to be a prostitute. Which, now that I’ve seen him, makes perfect sense.”

I hold my breath, praying that she’s just trying to mess with me. It’s not like I hate prostitutes, but no one should have to sell their body for a hot meal. And why else would anyone do it? I hate the thought of Nova letting people fuck him, hurt him, for money.

She takes hold of one of his wrists and slides the blade across it. “What are you doing? Touch him again and I’ll kill you!” I scream, thrashing against my bonds. She glances over her shoulder at me, smiles, and then turns back to her work. I watch, heart in my throat, ash she places five cuts on each arm. Blood streams down his arms, dripping off his elbows onto the floor. I stare at the little puddles, watching them grow.

She hands the blond her knife and walks back over to me. “You look a little confused. Let me explain,” she says sweetly. “Vampirism is an interesting disease. Those afflicted are endowed with strength, speed, heightened senses…but it all comes at a cost. If they don’t feed, they turn into rabid beasts. They’ll kill anyone… their friends, their family, if it means they get to feed.” There’s a sick glint in her eyes, like she’s enjoying this. And I know she is.

“Your point?” I ask, fearing the worst. Does she intend to use Nova as a weapon against the pack? He’s blood-bonded to Lydia, bound to protect those she loves. But does that bond include the vampire lying dormant inside of him? I doubt that it does.

Diana smiles, glancing over at Nova. “Telling you my plan does seem a little cliché, but we all have our roles,” she says with a giggle. I groan, wising I could bang my head against the wall. She’s like a five year old playing with her dolls. “I am going to starve your vampire and make my daughter watch while he drains you dry. Then when he wakes up and sees what he has done, he’ll beg me to kill him. And, because I’m so gracious, I’ll oblige.”

“You’re fucking insane,” I say, gaping at her. She cocks her head to the side as if she’s contemplating her own insanity, and then nods, smiling.

“I’ll be back in the morning. We’ll get started once your vampire’s all dried up.” She glances fondly at the pools of blood at Nova’s feet and then turns away from me, making her way up the stairs. The other banshees follow behind her, heads bowed.

I wait until the door slams shut before turning to Nova. My heart aches at the mere sight of him. He’s covered in blood, torn clothes soaked in the dark substance. Even with a mask obscuring most of his face, he’s still gorgeous. With his sharp features, aristocratic nose, and those eyes…God, I could live and die in his eyes. I exhale shakily, tearing my eyes off of him.

I love Isaac. I really do. My feeling for Nova don’t change the way I feel about Isaac, but they could potentially change the way Isaac feels about me. Lydia brought up an interesting point when she mentioned my getting Isaac to admit he likes guys. But there is a difference between talk and action. Besides, it wouldn’t matter. Nova and Isaac hate each other.

But I guess it doesn’t really matter. Diana is going to kill us. I’m going to die with Nova’s fangs in my neck. And after we’re gone, she’ll go after Isaac. She’s going to kill every single one of my friends until Lydia’s all that’s left. She’s going to strip away everything that makes Lydia human, turning my best friend into a weapon.

Furious tears brim in my eyes. I’m supposed to be the strong one, not the damsel in distress. Lydia’s probably falling apart with worry and there’s nothing I can do. “Fuck,” I whisper, angrily brushing my tears on my shoulder.

“Allison,” Nova says weakly, voice raw. I lift my gaze, heart threatening to beat its way out of my chest. He groans, the noise pained and sharp. I grit my teeth, wishing I could see his eyes. I’d feel safer…I know it. He cocks his jaw from side to side, the movement inhibited by the muzzle. “Come on, bambi, tell me you’re okay,” he pleads, tearing at me.

“Bambi?” I ask, eternally grateful that he can’t see me smiling…and blushing.

He exhales in relief, smirking ruefully. “Nobody’s ever called you bambi? Now that’s a fucking travesty. You’ve got legs for days and doe eyes that make me wanna worship the ground you walk on,” he says, smooth as caramel. I melt, blushing like a schoolgirl.

“We’re trapped in a basement and you’re flirting with me?” I say, voice cracked. He smirks, completely aware of just how much he’s getting to me. He doesn’t need to see, to know that I’m turned on.

“You worried your boyfriend’s gonna find out?” he asks. And even though I know that he’s teasing me, an aching pit forms in my stomach. If Isaac finds out I have feelings for someone else, I’ll crush him. He doesn’t have any family left and it isn’t easy for him to connect with people. I spent months just getting him to talk to me. I can’t hurt him. He’s lived through enough pain already. “I was just teasing, Allison. You have nothing to worry about.”

I exhale unevenly. We’re probably going to die here anyways, so I might as well be honest with him. “I’m not so sure,” I whisper, clenching my eyes shut.

“I wouldn’t touch you without your permission. I know how that feels and I’d never do that to you,” he says sternly, emotion alive in his voice. So Diana wasn’t lying when she said Nova was a prostitute. I swallow hard. He can’t be any older than me, which means he was an underage prostitute. “Why do you smell sad?”

I clear my throat awkwardly. “It’s nothing. We can talk about it later,” I say rapidly, not wanting to embarrass him or put him on the spot.

“No. What’s wrong?” he asks irately, taking a deep breath. It occurs to me that maybe, just like snakes, vampires have a scent organ in their mouths. If they do, it would mean their sense of smell probably rivals that of the werewolves.

“It’s nothing really,” I mutter, wishing he would just drop it. It’s probably not something he wants to talk about. And it’s not like we know each other well. ‘I used to be a prostitute’ is like seventh date material. “Diana just said that you used to be a prostitute. I assumed it wasn’t true but then…” I trail off, anxious.

Nova swallows, dropping his head. “Then I mentioned knowing how it feels to be touched without permission.” I nod even though he can’t see me. “You want the whole story or just the cliff notes?” he asks, voice dry and angry. I can tell it’s not one he likes to share.

“No. I don’t want anything,” I say swiftly. Asking him a simple question is one thing, but forcing him to bear his soul is another. We don’t know one another well enough for me to demand something like that. “You can tell me when you’re ready, or never…either way, it’s not my place to be asking.”

He chews on his lip rings, remaining painfully silent for a moment. “You’re far too good for that wolf of yours,” he says with a soft laugh. I shiver, trying to ignore the heat seeping through my veins.

“Isaac's not so bad. He can be really sweet when he wants to be,” I murmur, studying his expression as best I can. He nods, tonguing his lip rings reflexively.

“Whatever you say, bambi. As far as I’m concerned he’s just a homophobic werewolf with anger issues. And you know what they say about homophobes,” he says with a sadistic smirk. I lick my lips; he has no idea how right he is. I’ve known Isaac was bi for a while now. He had a crush on Scott sophomore year. The other wolf was too oblivious to notice, but Lydia and I did.

“You don’t even know him,” I say dejectedly. A twisted part of me wants them to be friends, at the very least. Lydia’s relationship with Stiles and Derek comes to mind. But Nova and Isaac aren’t Stiles and Derek. Those two actually like each other.

“I don’t want to know him! He threw me out of a third story window.”

I gape at him. “He threw you out of a window? Why?” I ask, voice shrill.

“You went missing and he assumed I was the one that took you. I would’ve just compelled him to stop, but I was trying to be nice. That’s the last time I try that,” he says sardonically. I burst out laughing. It’s kind of hilarious in a sick sense. Nova groans, smirking at me. “Laugh it up. When this is all settled I’m gonna return the favor. We’ll see if he likes how it feels.”

“You get us out of here and I’ll take him up the elevator myself,” I say, smirking. Nova laughs, the sound running down my spine like hot water.

“You got it, bambi. Now, where are we? The last thing I remember was biting that banshee bitch and getting a mouth full of Belladonna.” He opens and closes his mouth, as if he can still taste the poisonous plant.

“We’re in a basement. Diana’s going to bleed you dry and them make Lydia watch while you kill me,” I say, eyeing the cuts on his arms. The Nightshade must be messing with his healing abilities, otherwise they would be gone by now. “But you already knew that, right?” I say, the truth only just now occurring to me. He wasn’t passed out when Diana was talking to me, at least not the whole time.

“I woke up when she cut me. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you,” he says. “But… you were really upset…I just wanted to…put you at ease…” I bit my lip, my anger slipping away. He’s bleeding out, about to be used by a psychopath, and yet he’s more worried about me than himself. Lydia was right; Nova is a total sweetheart. “Max says I have a calming voice. When she and Isabel fight she’ll come to my house and have me read to her. I didn’t-”

“Nova,” I whisper, cutting him off. “Thank you…Lydia was right about you.” I want to tear that mask from his face and pull him into my arms. I want to hold him, to know how he feels against me. I want to know him, to know what makes him happy and what scares him.

“Did baby banshee spill all my secrets?” he asks with a smile. I laugh, amused by his nickname for her. Lydia would never admit it, but she adores nicknames. She always smiles when Stiles calls her Liddy and she fucking melts when Derek calls her baby. “I promise I wasn’t ever Canadian pop star, though I did invent the microwave.” I burst out laughing, smiling so hard that it hurts.

“No, she just told me that you’re a sweetheart,” I say, blushing.

He scoffs. “That girl’s got a soft spot for me. I’d say it’s my winning charm, but I’m afraid to flirt with her. I thought Isa was scary, but she’s got nothin’ on her brother.” He chuckles, flashing his fangs. I bite my lip, briefly wondering how it would feel to have him feed from me. It could potentially be really intimate, but if Diana gets her way I’ll be anything but.

Silence descends upon us for a moment, broken only by the sound of his blood dripping onto the floor. I look down at the rapidly growing puddles. “How much longer until…” I trail off, not knowing how to put it.

He smiles softly. “Until I turn into a monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” I say fiercely. I don’t know him well, but I know enough. He cares about Max and Lydia and Isabel…and maybe even me. I’ve met monsters. I’ve killed them. And the one thing they all have in common is that they don’t care. But Nova does.

He drops his head, jaw clenched tight. “You’re too good for Isaac…and you’re way too good for me,” he says, anguish bleeding into his voice. I shake my head, hating that he thinks so little of himself.

“Lydia always says ‘not all monsters do monstrous things.’ Being a vampire doesn’t make you a bad person,” I say, genuinely believing my own words. I know that he bit Stiles, but he didn’t kill him and that’s what matters. Hell, Isaac threw him out of a window and he didn’t retaliate. That’s like the definition of a good person.

“No, but killing innocent people does,” he says tonelessly. I study him, brows furrowed in confusion. I know that I don’t know him, but I can tell he’s not a cold-blooded murderer. If he killed innocent people, it must’ve been because he wasn’t in control. There’s no other explanation. I yank against my chains, wanting to hold him, to reassure him.

“Vampirism is a disease. If you killed someone, it’s because you weren’t in control. And if you weren’t in control, then you can’t be held accountable for your actions,” I say gently, trying to comfort him. But my words have the opposite affect, setting him even more on edge.

“Give it ‘til morning, bambi. Then you can decide whether or not I’m a monster,” he says coldly. I bite my lips, anxiety threatening to split me in two. How are we supposed to get out of this? Both of us are locked up and weaponless, Nova weakened by Nightshade. 

“Please tell me you’ve got a brilliant plan for our escape,” I mutter, glancing over at the stairs. “Does anyone know where we are?”

“I didn’t want to risk their lives. I told Lydia I’d have you back by dinner. And I would’ve, had I not bitten Diana. I should’ve at least texted Lydia the address, but I could smell your blood and I was…distracted…” he says, exhaling. “As far as genius plans go, I’ve got nothing. I’m a warrior not a tactician.”

“So…we’re screwed?”

He chuckles, confusing me. “You’re friends with two of the smartest people I’ve ever met. They’ll find us, I’m sure,” he says, his faith absolute. “Right now, you and I need to focus on slowing my heartbeat.”

“And how are we gonna do that?” I ask, swallowing.

“We could have sex,” he says with a dry chuckle.

“That doesn’t slow your heart rate and, besides, we’re chained,” I say, caught up in the logistics. He laughs loudly, making me smile.

“That wasn’t a no.” He flashes me a truly wicked smirk. My breath hitches, heat spreading, slow and sure, through my veins. “No need to blush, bambi. I’m kidding…mostly. Just tell me a story. Tell me how you fell in love with Isaac.” My brows furrow. Why would he want to know that? And why am I dying to tell him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one weekend! I must love you guys! Haha.  
> So what did you guys think of Allison's POV? I think I've told a few of you, but I have a spin off planned. It's gonna be centered around three particular people. I'll give you a gold star if you can guess which ones. Haha. Anyways, would any of you be interested in reading it?  
> Oh and, in case anyone doesn't know, there is gonna be a blood moon eclipse tonight. Google it to find out the time for where you live. It's gonna be super cool!


	31. Chapter 31

_I’m standing in a dimly lit basement. The stagnant air hanging around me smells strongly of gasoline and exhaust. It’s cold, really cold. I can feel it, but when I exhale there isn’t a plume of fog. I remind myself that I can’t interact with this environment, that this is a dream._

_I walk tentatively down the stairs, fists clenched tight. The light illuminates me as I take another step. Heart in my throat, I lift my gaze, bracing myself for the worst. What I see isn’t at all what I expected._

_Nova is lying across from Allison, who is also on the floor. They’re changed to opposite walls, but only by their necks. He’s wearing a mask around his eyes, the skin around the leather red and enflamed. It must be coated in something that harms vampires; otherwise he’d have taken it off by now. Allison trails her fingers down the cement, shushing him softly._

_“It’s okay, Nova…I’m right here. Just focus on me,” she whispers, staring at him, eyes filled with something achingly close to love. A tear drips off of the side of her nose and I watch it fall, in awe. Ali rarely cries and seeing tears in her eyes hurts, but it’s also really beautiful._

_She shifts, grimacing. Worried, I walk over to her. I gasp when I see the wounds that pockmark her body. They range from tiny knife bites to large gashes. She’s covered in blood, her bra and panties stained red with it. Tears spill down my cheeks as I stare down at her in horror. This is my fault. They tortured her because of me, because of how much I love her._

_“What can I do? I hate this! I don’t know what to do!” she says sharply, clenching her eyes shut. The last time I saw her crying so desperately was when her mother died. Allison was sobbing in her father’s arms, lost for the world._

_Brows furrowed, I glance down at Nova. My stomach lurches when I notice the blood that covers his arms. His wrists are slit, bleeding. I walk over to him, crouching down. He’s got his jaw clenched so tightly that his fangs are cutting into his blood stained lip. His entire body is shaking, nails scratching reflexively at the cement floor. Behind him is a circle of chain with just enough slack for him to cross the room._

_The truth hits me like a bullet. I stand up and step back. My mother cut Nova’s wrists and intends to use him to kill Allison. How long until he loses his sense, until he kills my best friend? Gasping, I slump down onto the bottom stair, tears streaming down my face. She’s going to make Nova kill Allison. She’s going to make my watch while Nova tears her throat out, frantic for blood._

_“Dammit, Nova! Talk to me!” Allison says, swallowing hard._

_Nova chuckles dryly, making me smile despite everything. “Did I tell you Derek marked Stiles and Lydia?” he asks, every word has a wounded edge to it. Max described a vampire’s hunger as having someone stick a hot poker down your throat and that’s exactly how it sounds._

_Allison smiles softly, love in her eyes. “Took them long enough. I love Lydia, but she’s always had shitty taste in men.” I laugh, breath hitching. I can’t let this happen. I won’t let my best friend die._

_“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Nova mutters, smirking._

_Allison exhales unsteadily, eyes holding the vampire. “Can I ask you a question?”_

_“Shoot, bambi,” he says and then he laughs. “Sorry, I think that was the worst pun I’ve ever made. Remind me to say something funny later. I’d hate for that to be the last joke I ever make.” Allison chuckles, rolling her eyes at him._

_I bite my lip, looking from Nova to Allison. There’s something between them, something more than just attraction. If they make it through this, I’m going to beat Isaac with Stiles’ baseball bat until he admits that he’s attracted to Nova. They are going to become my project and I, Lydia Jane Martin, always finish my projects._

_“I know that werewolves have fated mates…sometimes more than one. But what about vampires?” Allison asks trying to sound nonchalant as she draws circles in the dust on the floor. I expect Nova to laugh, to make a joke, but he remains stoically silent. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”_

_He clears his throat, pain marring his handsome face. Allison grits her teeth; she hates seeing him hurting just as much as me. “It’s just a myth, but we’re supposed to have what’s called a destined.”_

_“A destined?” Allison prompts, brows furrowed._

_“Yeah. Supposedly there are one or two people meant for every vampire. They say that if a vampire drinks their destined’s blood, they’ll never again hunger for another. The destined can bring their vampire back from the brink, subduing the disease inside of them. It’s said to be evolutionary thing, the disease finding a better way of sustaining its host. But, if you ask me, it’s all bullshit,” he says, voice dying out with a painful crack._

_I look over at Allison, who’s staring at Nova. I know that she’s running through everything she’s ever read about vampires. I can tell because she’s got her research face on. Her nose is kind of pinched up and she’s sticking out the tip of her tongue._

_“How would you tell if someone was your destined?” she asks quizzically._

_“Scent…I donno. It’s just a myth vampires made up to make themselves feel better. We’re monsters and monsters don’t get happy endings,” he says tonelessly, making my heart ache. I’ve met a lot of monsters and Nova is as far from one as anything. Why does he think so little of himself? My mother always used to tell me, ‘The past doesn’t make the present’ and I know that that’s the truth. Nova isn’t what he has done._

_Allison sits up and wraps her arms around her legs, leaning back against the wall. “My mother got bitten by a werewolf and killed herself. She chose to die rather than become what she viewed as a monster.” Tears cascade down her pale face, cutting paths through the blood and grime. “I’m an Argent, a hunter. I was raised to see every supernatural creature as a monster, but I’ve come to realize that most of them aren’t. Yes, there are crazies, but the same can be said for humans.” I smile serenity. I love her so much._

_“That’s a beautiful sentiment, bambi,” Nova says, voice raw and broken. The shaking in his body is worse now, far more violent. He’s got a hand placed over his mouth, chest hitching as he struggles not to breathe. The scent of Allison’s blood is affecting him far more than he’d like her to know._

_“It’s not a sentiment! I swear to God, when we get out of here, and we will, I’m gonna show you that I’m right,” she say fiercely. Nova responds with a humorless chuckle, infuriating her._

_“You’ve got a serious thing for broken toys, don’t you?” Nova whispers. I can hear the vampire in his voice. He’s losing control._

_Allison arches her neck proudly, blushing. “Excuse me?”_

_“Making up for your family transgressions by fucking an abused werewolf and trying to save me? Someone’s got a lost puppy kink.” Something in his voice clues Allison in. She quickly realizes that Nova’s control is slipping, that she’s not talking to him anymore. Her body language shifts, opening._

_“I know you’re still in there, Nova. You’re a lot of things…but cruel isn’t one of them. Come back to me,” she whispers, voice calm and slow. “You’re okay. It’s okay. I’m right here with you…you’re safe.” My heart lurches. She doesn’t know it, but Max said the same thing when she saved Nova._

_The shaking in his body recedes ever so slightly, his fingers unclenching. He exhales, expression turning pained once again. “I’m sorry, Allison,” he whispers. The earnest pleading in his voice strips me bare. I glance over at Allison, who’s staring at him like she’d like nothing more than to cross the room and hold him. “It hurts…” he whimpers, cradling a shaking hand around his neck. Allison stares at his hand, eyes tearful._

_“I know. I know it does…” she says, voice raw with emotion; Nova means a lot more to her than she let on. Their time down here has cemented an odd sort of bond between the two of them. “I hate this. What can I do?”_

_“You can stay far away from me. I don’t want to hurt you…God, that’s the last fucking thing I wanna do to you…” he says, groaning in pain. I swallow against the dryness in my throat. Nova may flirt with everyone, but he truly cares for Allison. That much is easy to see._

_I’m jolted out of my own head by the sound of footsteps behind me. I scramble off the stairs and cross the room, watching Diana make her way down to us. She catches my gaze, smiling wickedly._

_“Lovely to see you, Lydia,” she says elegantly. I glare at her, wishing I could throttle her with something. She killed my mother and she’s about to make Nova kill my best friend. I’m going to hunt her down and set her on fire…she deserves nothing less._

_“You’re looking very serial killer today,” I say tonelessly, eyeing her white dress._

_“Why thank you,” she says, running a hand down her hip. She looks from Allison to Nova, smiling. “I assume, as my daughter, you figured out how I intend to rid the world of Allison Argent?”_

_“Tell your mother to go fuck herself, Liddy,” Allison says with a laugh. I know that she can’t see me, but she knows that I’m here. I glance over at her, smiling._

_“I think Allison pretty much summed it up.”_

_My mother cocks her head to the side disapprovingly. “You and your friends have such terrible language, especially little miss hunter. When you join me, I plan on teaching you some better manners…as a mother should.”_

_I roll my eyes exaggeratedly. “You’re as much my mother as the homeless man that lives outside my apartment,” I say with a sarcastic lilt. Her smile slips into a sneer._

_“I am your mother. And it’s because I love you that I’m getting rid of your friends. They aren’t good enough for you, darling. You will be much better off without them,” she says, arching her neck arrogantly. I close the distance between us, unafraid even though I know that she can touch me…that she can hurt me._

_“If either of them dies, you’ll regret it for the rest of your painfully short life!” I yell, fists clenched tight. She arches an eyebrow and then bursts into laughter; God, I wish I had Stiles’ baseball bat. She’s just begging to have her face smashed in._

_“What are you going to do, Lydia. Are you going to send your mates after me? I’ll paint them in red and ship them back to you in pieces,” she says voice smooth, manic. Fear coils in my stomach, but I ignore it. She doesn’t deserve my fear. She’s not good enough for it._

_“No, Diana! I’m coming after you! And we’ll see who gets painted in red,” I say, glaring deep into her ebony eyes. She smirks, almost like she’s pleased, and then turns and starts back up the stairs._

_“You’re vampire isn’t going to last much longer, darling. How long until he tears out Allison’s pretty little throat?” she asks, flashing me a smirk. “I’d say you’re got a few hours…maybe.” She turns and continues up the stairs, red heels disappearing into the darkness._

I jerk upright, chest heaving. It’s still half-dark outside, the sun just cutting across the horizon. Frantic, I bolt upstairs, throwing open the door to Derek’s bedroom. Stiles is curled up on Derek’s chest, fast asleep, but the wolf is awake, red eyes fixed on me.

“What did you see?” Derek asks curtly, the sound of his voice waking Stiles up. The elemental twists around to face me, worry plain on his face. My stomach turns, guilt eating away at me. I shouldn’t have treated him like that last night.

“She’s gonna make Nova kill Allison. She slit his wrists…he’s bleeding out,” I say rapidly, heart beating overtime.

“Oh my God,” Stiles mutters, head in his hands.

Derek grabs his phone and gets out of bed, dressing as he dials a number. “No, she’s still alive. Lydia had a…” he glances over at me, “she had a vision. Of course, Chris. Would you mind calling John? Yes, we’ve got a plan. Stiles has a plan. It’s fucking insane but it could work. I’ll keep you updated.” He sets his phone down and shrugs on his shirt, turning to face me.

“I’m sorry about last night,” I murmur, looking from Derek to Stiles. To my surprise, Stiles slides off the end of the bed and pulls me into his arms. He holds me tight, like he’s terrified of losing me. I bury my face in his neck, shivering as wind circles around us. “I was scared. I am scared.” His arms tighten around me.

“I’ve got a plan,” he says, carding his fingers through my hair. I pull back, looking up at him. He grins, making me smile. One day Stiles is going to be the best detective California’s ever seen.

“Go on,” I say as he takes his clothes from Derek. He steps away from me, dressing so quickly that’s its baffling.

“I don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. I mean it’s so obvious.” Derek growls, prompting Stiles to stay on topic. Stiles clears his throat, running a hand through his hair. “There’s this girl in my CJ 2010 class. Her name’s Willa and she’s a witch. I called her last night at like 3 AM. I explained everything and she said she’d be over at 7.” I gape at him, unsure what to think. I’ve never met a witch, but I haven’t heard great things about them.

“Do you trust her?” I ask, glancing over at Derek’s alarm clock. We’ve got fifteen minutes before she shows up. A witch.

“Willa? Oh, yeah. She’s like the human version of a kitten, mess of curly hair and as sweet as fucking sugar,” Stiles says, flashing me a smile. I nod, moving so that he can make his way downstairs.

I turn to look at Derek, who’s standing a few feet from me, eyes downcast. His hands are fisted at his sides, shaking ever so slightly. I can almost feel his wolf fighting to break through. Crossing the room, I tuck myself up against his chest and bare my neck.

“Go ahead, Der,” I whisper and, with that, he buries his face in my neck. He breathes in my scent like a man starved of breath. I shudder when he rubs his cheek over my pulse. He wraps his arms around me, tonguing the mating mark on my neck. I clench my hands in his shirt, berating myself for sleeping downstairs. He’s a mated werewolf. He probably needs to sleep with his mates in order to keep his wolf calm. God, I’m so selfish. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby. Now we better get downstairs before Stiles invites in a coven in for bacon and eggs,” he says with a guff laugh. I nod, motioning for him to head down. He makes his way downstairs as I get dressed and grab my boots. Once I am fully clothed, I join them in the kitchen.

The pack shows up while we eat, snagging their own breakfast. Isaac comes first, his expression taut with worry and lack of sleep. Kira and Scott come next, quickly followed by Max and Isa, who wraps Derek up in a tight hug the second she sees him. We’re all seated in the living room, surrounded by tense silence, when someone taps lightly on the door.

Stiles bolts over, gesturing in a wisp of a girl with a mess of gorgeous black hair curling left and right, up and down. She’s dressed like a librarian, pale purple cardigan hanging off of her frail shoulders. I catch her gaze, surprised to see that she has Heterochromia iridis, one eye Caribbean blue and the other a soft hazel. 

“Everyone, this is Willa Charlotte Germaine. Willa, this is Derek, Lydia, Max, Isabel, Isaac, and you already know Scott,” Stiles says, gesturing to each one of us.

“Hi,” Willa says softly, giving us a tiny half-wave. “Stiles said that you need help finding someone?”

I stand up and walk over to her. She backs up; eyeing me like she’s afraid I’m going to scream at her. Aware that I’m scaring her, I stop my advance and smile reassuringly. “It’s my best friend Allison. Can you find her?” I ask, voice frayed with worry.

Willa nods, swallowing. “I can…as long as she doesn’t have any cloaking magic on her. I knew Stiles was an elemental but he failed to mention he was mated to a werewolf and a banshee,” she says, eyeing Derek and I warily.

Stiles laughs, directing her over to the kitchen table. “Well you didn’t tell me you were a witch. I had to figure it out all by myself. And it wasn’t easy. You hide it well,” he says as he watches her empty her bag. She giggles, nose crinkling up adorably. 

“Would you prefer I wore a pointy hat and a black dress?” she asks, blushing. Kira giggles, cocking her head to the side as she studies the objects Willa pulled out of her bag. To me, it just looks like a bunch of dried weeds and broken trinkets, but I’m sure it’s not.

“That’s exactly what I want,” Stiles says, laughing.

Willa unties one of the little bundles of dried herbs and forms the stems into a circle. Then she grabs a box of four little white candles and sets one at each of the circle’s poles: north, south, east, and west. Her dainty fingers are strong and sure as she lights the candles with a touch, moving in a clockwise direction.

“I need something of hers…something important to her.” Isaac holds out his hand. In it is one of Allison’s sliver broad heads, the tiny Argent symbol marring the metal. Willa takes it from him and places it in the circle. “You’re her boyfriend, right?” she asks, glancing at Isaac, who nods solemnly. “Give me your hand.” He does as she says, watching as she pricks his finger and turns it over, his blood dripping onto the arrowhead.

“Is that it?” Stiles asks, peering over Willa’s shoulder. I smile, adoring the light in his eyes. I’m sure, once this is all over, he’ll annoy poor Willa into spilling all of her witchy secrets. Stiles’ curiosity is killer.

“Almost,” Willa says as she dumps what looks like snake bones into the palm of her hand. Beneath the hem of her sweater, I can see the beginning of what looks like a truly beautiful tattoo. Stiles catches it too, cocking his head to the side in hopes of getting a better look. “This is a powerful spell. Would you mind if I channeled one of you?” Willa asks politely.

Stiles gives her his hand, smiling as if he were handing her a muffin. He is way too trusting. I look over at Derek, who clearly agrees with me. His eyes are red, firmly fixed on Stiles.

Willa closes her eyes, whispering to herself. I catch a few words in Latin, but most of it is gibberish. We stare at her, no one daring to breathe. The air in the room turns cold and Stiles’ eyes fly open, ice blue once again. The candles blaze, alight with an energy not their own. She continues to whisper, bringing the handful of bones up to her mouth.

Then, suddenly, her chest juts upward and she throws her head back. I gasp; her eyes are filmed over with white, opaque. She holds her hand out, slowly unfurling her fingers. The bones, speckled with her blood, fall onto the table. Instead of bouncing or rolling, they stick when the kiss the wood.

The second the last bones hits the table, she exhales and releases Stiles. The elemental stumbles backward into Derek, who wraps a possessive arm around him. Taking a shaky step back, Willa blinks, the white film over her eyes disappearing. We stare at her for a moment, unsure what to say or think.

Finally Kira breaks the silence. “So…do you know where she is?”

Willa studies the bones as she wraps a strip of white cloth around her hand. “She’s still in Beacon Hills…in an abandoned auto body shop. It was called ‘Jake’s Auto body and Repair.’ Allison’s trapped in the basement with a vampire. She called him Nova…he didn’t look good,” she says, dark brows drawn with worry.

“Thank you,” I say earnestly. “You ever need me banshee scream for one of those spells of yours, I’m there.” She smiles bashfully, nodding. I cross the room, grabbing my keys from the coffee table.

“If you ever need anything, just ask,” Derek says, releasing Stiles and walking up to Willa. She studies him, brows furrowed.

“You’re a Hale, aren’t you?” she asks. “I can sense your wolf…he’s strong.”

“My sister and I are the last of our line,” he says gesturing to Isabel, who’s eyeing Willa skeptically. “The rest of our family was killed in a fire.”

Willa stares at him, eyes wide with awe. “You know, the Hale line can be traced back to the first werewolf. It’s ancient and powerful.” Derek nods again, jaw clenched tight. “A pack home to the only known white werewolves. It was prophesied that one was to be born.” She looks out the window, eyes losing their focus. “Born under a bloody moon, white as snow, in love with fire and echoes.” Derek’s eyes narrow and he takes a step back.

“Prophesied? What kind of prophecy?” Max asks, blue eyes fixed on Willa.

“Many witches had a vision of a white wolf, fur covered in blood, ascending the Nemeton. The prophecy has been interpreted many different ways. Some think the wolf a demon, a bringer of apocalypse. Others claim he’s a savior. All I know is that you, Derek Hale, are shielded with magic…and in love with fire and echoes.” She glances pointedly at Stiles and then at me. We all gape at her, lost for words. “I found you’re friend. All I’m asking for is honesty.”

Derek clears his throat, glancing over at Isabel. She shakes her head no, fists clenched at her sides. Having made his decision, he turns back to Willa. “I was born with white fur. A witch spelled me when I was a baby. She claimed I was a death omen.”

“I knew it,” she says with a little smile. “Allow me to do you a favor.” She lifts her hands, placing then on Derek’s face, her delicate fingers splayed over his eyes. Her eyes turn white again and she says something in Latin. I catch the words ‘king’ and ‘known’ before she drops her hands and blinks, reverting her eyes back to normal. Derek takes a step back and starts coughing. When it subsides, he pulls his hand away from his mouth. In his palm there’s a small circular stone; it looks like obsidian. “Prophecies aren’t to be messed with. You’re meant for something, Derek Hale.” She gathers up her supplies, placing them into carefully into her bag. “Now…if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get to work.”

“Thanks, Willa,” Stiles says as he shows her out. She glances back at Derek and then disappears behind the door. “She won’t admit it, but I’m convinced she can turn herself into a cat.” He chuckles and I roll my eyes, turning to look at Derek. He’s starting at the tiny stone in his hand, brows furrowed.

“Let’s go get Allison,” Isaac says, the wolf alive in his voice. We follow him out the door, shifting our focus to Allison and Nova. I just hope we can make it there in time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, darlings! I ended up having to work yesterday. I hope you are all having a fantastic weekend! Please let me know what you thought of this chapter. I could use some love! ;)


	32. Chapter 32

“Do we have a plan?” Kira asks tentatively as we make our way across town.

“Diana won’t be there. She’s much too refined to be spending her time in an abandoned building. The bitch is probably hold up in some five star hotel, sipping champagne,” I say, hatred seeping out of my pores.

We get out of the car, joining everyone else across the street. Max gives everyone a pair of earplugs, instructing us to put them in. “They won’t stop them from killing you, but they will slow down the process,” she says, eyes gleaming wolf-blue. She’s worried about Nova…she and I seem to be the only ones who are. I love Allison, but she’s not the only one I’m here for.

“Remember, banshees don’t have superhuman strength or heightened senses. They can be killed just as easily as a human. They’re gonna assume that we’re all werewolves and hit us first. We’ll take them out while the rest of you find Allison and Nova,” Isa says, her voice calm and collected. Derek stands at her back, eyes burning red. Unlike most alphas, Derek isn’t apposed to others being in charge.  That is as long as everyone remembers that his word is law.

Isaac growls his approval, stripping off his clothes and shifting from human to wolf. Scott and Isabel do the same. Derek looks over at Stiles and I, holding us in his gaze for a moment before he shifts. Everyone gapes at him, eyes wide. His coat, once the color of night, is as white as morning snow. The color offsets his red eyes, making him look demonic and powerful.

“Lydia,” Max says softly, pulling my attention off of Derek. I turn to face her. She holds her hand out to me. Hanging from her fingers is a little Ninja Turtle backpack. I take it from her and unzip it. Inside there is a first aid kit, a water bottle, and four bags of O Negative, and a blowtorch. “No matter what he says, don’t let him out until those are gone,” she says sternly, gesturing to the blood bags.

“I’ll take care of him. I promise,” I say, nodding curtly. She smiles and then shifts, stepping back to stand next to Isabel. I look the wolves over. Scott and Isa both have black coats. Isaac is the color of tree bark, rich and earthy. Max’s fur is as golden blond as her hair, glistening in the sun. And Derek looks painted in starlight.

Derek walks up to Stiles, who falls to his knees and wraps his arms around the wolf. “I love you, Sourwolf,” Stiles whispers. My throat aches at the sight, tears brimming in my eyes. I’ll die if anything happens to them. Derek nuzzles his face and then pulls back, making his way over to me.

He noses the palm of my hand and I mirror Stiles’ action, descending to my knees before him. His red eyes dig into me, wordlessly demanding I stay safe. I nod, taking his muzzle in my hands and placing a kiss on the top of his nose. He closes his eyes for a moment and then pulls back, ordering the wolves to follow him with a sharp growl.

Kira, Stiles, and I put our earplugs in. “Let’s go around back,” Stiles says as we watch the werewolves advance on the run down building. We circle around an abandoned house to the left of the auto body shop. A scream rips through the air, but it does nothing to the three of us.

We reach the back of the auto body shop. There is a lock hanging off the door, but Kira whips out her sword and makes quick work of it. I open the door and Kira goes in first, her sword held high. Stiles and I follow, his arm stretched out in front of me protectively.

The building is mostly empty, but for the rusty frame of a car and a bunch of empty shelving units. It smells exactly like I remember, gasoline and exhaust. The smelling must’ve wormed its way into the walls, rendering itself permanent.

There’s an open door to our left, leading to what looks like an office, and a locked door to our right. Stiles advances on it and a woman steps around the corner, dressed in a lithe red dress. It’s identical to the ones they were wearing the first time Diana projected into my dreams.

She takes a deep breath and screams. The noise drills it’s way into my scull. I choke, clamping my hands over my ears in a vain effort to stop the pain. My knees start to buckle but then, just like that, the sound is gone. I tear my eyes open, watching the banshee’s body hit the ground. Kira stands before the corpse, her blade stained red with blood. 

“You okay, Liddy?” Stiles asks, his arms wrapped around me.

“Yeah,” I say with a nod. Kira slices the lock off of the door and the three of us make our way down the stairs. The basement is exactly like I remember, dimly lit and heavy with the scent of exhaust.

“Allison?” I say sharply, voice breaking with emotion.

“Lydia!” she yells as we step into the light. Relief cuts across her face and she exhales, dropping her head. I take a step toward her but she lifts the palm of he hand, stopping me in my track. “Nova. Help Nova,” she says pleadingly, glancing across the room.

I follow her gaze, gasping in horror when I see him. He’s writhing on the floor, back arching and waning. His lips are split and bloody, his neck covered in scratches. He rakes his nails down it, chest heaving erratically. I’ve never seen anyone in so much pain.

Tears fill my eyes as I shrug the backpack from my shoulder and unzip it. I pull out the blood bags and then hand the backpack to Stiles, gesturing towards Allison. He nods, crossing the room to help her. I hear him flip the blowtorch on as study Nova.

“How lucid is he, Ali?” I ask softly. Nova moans, nails clawing frantically at his bloody neck. It’s horrible, watching him rip himself apart.  

“I have no idea, but don’t get any closer to him! He’d hate himself if he hurt you. Just slide the blood bags over,” she says weakly. Exhaling, I do as instructed, sliding the bag across the floor. It hits Nova’s side lightly, but he doesn’t respond.

“Nova, there’s a blood bag sitting next to your right hip,” I say, hoping to break through his madness. He continues to claw at his throat, whimpering.

“Nova,” Allison says, but he doesn’t give us any indication that he heard her. I take a step towards him, determined to help him even if it kills me. I can feel Stiles’ eyes on me as I approach the vampire, blood bags in hand. Cautiously, kneel above Nova’s head and undo the little cap on the blood bag.

I hold my breath as I tip the bag upside down, watching the crimson liquid drip onto Nova’s mouth. He unhinges his jaw and moans. A moment passes and then he reaches up and takes hold of the blood bag. I scramble backwards, fear clawing at my chest, as he turns over and attacks the bag. Blood streams down his face as he feeds, squeezing the contents into his mouth.

When the bag’s empty he grabs the others, locating them by scent alone. In minutes, they’re lying empty beneath him. He’s on his hands and knees, breathing slowly returning to normal.

I take a step toward him and he jerks backward, baring his fangs at me. “It’s okay, Nova. It’s just me. I’m not going to hurt you,” I say softly as I approach him. My voice does the trick and he relaxes, dropping his head back against the wall. I kneel before him and pull the mask from his face. Beneath it, his skin is raw and bloody.

“Belladonna,” he mutters. He sounds awful, his voice like broken glass.

“He wouldn’t let me take it off because it’s poisonous to humans and there are cuts on my hands,” Allison says. I glance over my shoulder at them. Stiles is carrying her in his arms, her head resting against his bicep. Kira walks over and hands me the blowtorch. Nova grabs the chain connected to his collar and lifts it up.

“Have at it, baby banshee,” he says dryly. I laugh, tears in my eyes. I’m so glad that he’s okay, that he and Allison are alive. The blowtorch makes quick work of the chain and I help him to his feet. “You okay?” he asks, looking over my shoulder at Allison.

She graces him with a gentle smile, “Yeah.”

We’re halfway up the stairs when we’re greeted by the blond banshee from my dream. She opens her mouth to scream, but Nova gets there first. He cocks his head to the side, pupils dilating. “Strangle yourself. Don’t stop until your heart gives out,” he says viciously. The blond lifts her hands to her throat and closes them around it. I swallow hard, looking over my shoulder at Allison, whose yes are fixed on the banshee.

We walk past her, gasping and sputtering, and make out way out the back door. Nova leads us around the abandoned house, body coiled like a prowling lion. Stiles sits Allison in the car and Kira gets in with her, handing her the water bottle. Once they are safe, I walk over to Stiles.

The wolves are tearing Diana’s banshees to shreds. Derek has his jaws around one’s neck and Isaac is destroying another, gnashing at her stomach. But their screams are affecting the wolves; their movements slow and pained. I can see the blood running from Derek’s ears, his white coat showing it well. 

“God, I’m hungry,” Nova says almost sensually, running his tongue across his teeth. He glances over at Stiles. “I could use some cover, firestarter,” he says as he rocks his neck from side to side, popping it.

“It’s not really up to me, but I’ll give it a try,” Stiles says. His eyes turn ice blue and a wicked looking storm forms above our heads. Rain starts to fall, assaulting the earth with wicked little pinpricks. Fog seeps around the buildings, playing in the semi-darkness. Looks like Mother Nature’s on our side this time.

“Fuck yeah,” Nova says and, just like that, he’s across the street ripping into one of the banshee’s throats. He buries his fingers in her dark hair, ravaging her neck as he feeds. Bagged blood really doesn’t do much for him and I can see why.

The fog obscures my vision, but out of the corner of my eye I catch Max falling to the ground. She paws at her ears, the fur beneath them red with blood. A banshee advances on her, knife in hand. Isa bolts over a banshee’s body, lunging toward her wife, but she’s not moving fast enough.

The banshee raises her knife and I open my mouth, releasing an ear-splitting scream. Every single one of the banshees falls to their knees, hands clamped over their ears. I continue to scream until every single one of them is dead. The noise dies in my throat and I take a deep breath, suddenly exhausted.

The wolves approach us, followed by Nova, who’s licking his lip hungrily. Kira opens the car door and Isaac bolts past me, practically jumping on Allison. She giggles as he licks her face, fisting her hands in his fur. I take the earplugs from ears and turn to look at Nova. He’s watching them, expression taut with something akin to longing. Pain cuts across his face as he tears his gaze away.

“Nova,” I say softly, wanting to comfort him.

His coal-black eyes slice into me, hard as diamonds. “I’ll check in later.” I walk over to him, loathing the agony in his eyes.

“Don’t go,” I murmur, practically pleading. “Just tell me what you need…”

He swallows hard, glancing over at Allison and Isaac. “I need to feed. I need to fuck and get fucked. I need to just…forget,” he says and then he’s gone, leaving me with an empty pit in my stomach.

Heart aching, I turn to face everyone. They’re all in their human forms once again, dressing half-heartedly. Isa has an unconscious Max in her arms. Scott hands her a blanket and she drapes it over her wife. Derek’s eyes are fixed on Stiles, who is staring at the auto body shop.

He holds his hand out and, in seconds, the building and both empty houses next to it are on fire. Like before, the fire moves of it’s own accord. It ravages the metal, destroying the entire building in a matter of minutes. The banshees’ bodies disappear into the flames, enveloped. When the last body is gone, Stiles goes slack and the fire disappears.

Derek catches him before he hits the pavement, tucking Stiles up against his chest. He catches my gaze as he makes his way over to Nova’s truck. I follow him, getting into the driver’s seat and starting her up. He holds Stiles as I drive us home, all the while touching him. He keeps one hand buried in Stiles’ hair, the other he tucks under the elemental’s shirt, stroking his back.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you, Stiles,” he says, deep voice calming my raging nerves. My muscles give as I listen to him coax Stiles back to us. “You did beautifully, both of you. My mates…my fierce little mates.” He meets my gaze in the mirror, eyes alive with love and admiration. I melt, wishing I could stop the truck and crawl into his arms.

Stiles is awake by the time we get to Derek’s loft, but he’s still exhausted. Derek insists on carrying him inside. Stiles grumbles for a moment, but eventually gives in. I cling to Derek as we ride up the elevator, his hand buried deep in my curls. The doors open and we walk into the loft.

Everyone is already here. Max and Isabel are on the couch, Max curled up next to her wife. Scott and Kira are in the kitchen making grilled cheese. And Isaac is sitting on the stairs, head in his hands. Allison must be upstairs showering.

“Grilled cheese!” Stiles yells, jumping out of Derek’s arms and scampering over to Scott, who hands him a plate stacked with grilled cheese.

Before I know what’s happening, Derek has me in his arms. I close my eyes, burying my face in his chest. “Are you hurt, baby?” he asks, making my heart lurch. God, I love the sound of his voice.

“No. Are you?” I ask, reaching up to cup his jaw. He captures my hand and turns his head, kissing the palm of my hand. I shudder, leaning into him. He wraps an arm around my waist, holding me tight. I take in his scent, letting it sink into my bones.

“I’m alright,” he says, glancing over at Stiles, who is telling Scott some joke about grilled cheese and a stripper. He flashes me a wink and I roll my eyes, turning back to Derek. “Why don’t you go check on Ali?” He releases me and I smile, walking over to the stairs.

When I reach Isaac, I bend down and place and whisper-soft kiss on his cheek. He swallows hard, brows drawn with worry. “I’ll make sure she’s okay. Don’t worry,” I whisper. He nods, jaw locked.

I stand up and make my way up the rest of the stairs, slipping into the bathroom. It’s warm inside, steam curling around me. Allison is in the shower, her body obscured by the glass. I sit down on the toilet with a huff, able to breath for the first time in what feels like forever.

“How’s Isaac?” Allison asks, voice as strong and sure as ever.

“Worried,” I say plainly, fiddling with a bottle of soap.

“And Nova?” I glance over at her, smirking secretively. She so fucking loves him. She can play it cool as much as she wants, but I can tell. “Stop smiling at me. I’m naked,” she says sternly.

I burst out laughing. “I wasn’t smiling.”

“You were! Now shut up and tell me if Nova’s okay,” she says and I can almost hear her rolling her eyes. I debate what to tell her, thinking hard on it. She quickly draws an answer from my silence. “Where is he?” she demands, peering around the shower door.

I bite my lip, dropping my gaze. She says my name sharply and I cave. “He went to find something to eat,” I say, omitting the rest. But she sees right through me, fixing me with a piercing glare. “Trust me…you don’t want to hear the rest.”

“Just tell me, Lydia,” she demands, turning back into the shower.

I clear my throat awkwardly. “You want word for word?”

“Word for word,” she says, washing the conditioner from her hair.

“He said that ne needed to feed, that needed to…fuck and get fucked…that he needed to forget.” Allison’s hands still and she inhales shakily. She turns off the shower, grabs a towel, and wraps it around herself. I catch her gaze as she steps out out. Her ebony eyes are heavy with worry and guilt, brimming with tears.

“I love Isaac. I do,” she says softly, not wanting anyone to overhear her.

“I know.”

“So then why do I want to hunt Nova down and hold him until he realizes that he’s…” she trails off, dropping her gaze. I stand up, giving her a comforting smile. She shakes her head in defeat, looking utterly torn.

“You can love more than one person at a time, Ali,” I say, remembering back when she said basically the same thing to me.

“I don’t love Nova,” she says defensively, crossing her arms. 

“Whatever! You just spent the last eighteen hours with him, talking down his vampire nature. You watched him come apart at the fucking seams! You’ve seen who he really is and I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t love him after that,” I say, staring deep into her eyes. She’s not the only person here who is worried about Nova. I love him too.

She grabs a hand towel, bringing it up to her hair. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Nova and Isaac hate each other. It’s not like Stiles and Derek. I’ll have to choose between them and I don’t wanna do that,” she says, staring at herself in the foggy mirror.

“Or…you could make it your life’s mission to get them together,” I say with a truly wicked smirk. She looks over at me and arches an eyebrow. “I guarantee all it will take is one kiss.”

“You’re insane,” she mutters, but there is a glint in her eye that wasn’t there before. I smile proudly; if I have anything to say about it they’ll all be together before the end of the summer.  “I love you, but you’re insane.”

“Love you too!” I say, pulling her into my arms. She smiles, holding me tight. “I’m glad you’re okay. I was so scared.” My throat tightens up painfully.

“Takes more than a little torture to break me. I am an Argent, after all,” she says, pulling back. I smile, adoring her strength. She’s always been my rock, something solid I can hold onto. And I love her for it. “Diana is one scary bitch.”

“I know,” I say, nodding.

“How did you find us?” she asks as we walk out of the bathroom and into one of Derek’s spare bedrooms.  

“A witch named Willa,” I say, averting my eyes while she gets dressed. She glances over her shoulder at me, brows furrowed.

“A witch named Willa?” she asks, chuckling. I nod, making her laugh.

We make our way downstairs, Allison stopping when she reaches Isaac. He takes her hand she lowers herself into his lap, burying her face in his neck. He closes his eyes, getting lost in her scent. I descend the rest of the stairs and walk over to the kitchen, accepting a grilled cheese from Kira.

“Lydia, where’s Nova?” Max asks, a half-eaten grilled cheese in her hands.

“He…” I trail off, unsure what to say. Max and Nova are best friends, but Max is also the closest thing Nova has to a mother. I can’t tell her he’s off getting himself some strange.

Her eyes darken, expression sobering. “Dammit!” she says sharply, dropping her sandwich and standing up. Irate, she twists around to face Isabel. “Why the fuck didn’t you stop him? He’s gonna fucking overdose again, Isabel!” she screams, taking my breath away. Overdose? On what, blood? Can that happen?

Isa stands up, eyes flashing yellow. “I was taking care of my mate, Max!”

Max growls. “He’s family!” She grabs her phone off of the table and dials a number, holding it up to her ear. With every unanswered ring, her anger increases. She drops her phone with a huff, fists clenched with worry. “Fuck!”

Isa crosses the room, placing a hand on Max’s face. “He’s not fifteen anymore, Max. He knows how much he can take,” she says softly, trying to calm her mate. Max nods, but looks unconvinced.

“He’s my baby, Isa,” Max whispers, voice breaking with desperation. Isabel nods solemnly, her love for Max written all over her face.

“Let’s go get him,” Isa says with a nod. Max smile brightly, grabbing her purse and rushing out the door. Isa follows her, but Allison stops grabs her arm before she can leave.

“Is he gonna be okay?” she asks anxiously. I glance over at Isaac, whose fists are clenched at his sides, eyes burning gold. He is just as aware of Allison’s feelings as I am. No wonder he threw the vampire out a window. I’d do the same thing if Stiles or Derek fell in love with someone else.

“Nova hasn’t overdosed since he was sixteen. Max is just overprotective. I’m sure he’s fine, honey,” Isa says, easy Allison’s fears. “Have Derek look at those wounds.” She gestures to the bloodstains on Allison’s shirt and then disappears behind the door. I can tell that she wants to go with them, but she holds back for Isaac’s sake. Watching her run off after another man, right after he just got her back, would break him.

“Overdose?” I say, glancing over at Derek.

He nods. “A lack of blood turns them into monsters, but too much can be just as dangerous. I’ve never seen it happen, but I know it can kill them,” he says tonelessly, glancing over at Allison. She’s distraught, torn between staying with Isaac and chasing after Nova. “Allison, let me have a look at your wounds,” Derek says, distracting her.

A few hours later, Max and Isabel return, Nova passed out in Isa’s arms. My heart lurches and I jump off the couch, fearing the worst. Allison’s right on my heels, holding her breath.

“Is he okay?” Allison asks frantically.  

“He’s fine,” Max says with a soft smile. Isa walks over and lays Nova down on the couch. Stiles studies the vampire curiously, eyeing the remnants of blood at the corners of his mouth. “We found him…well you probably don’t wanna know. I love him but he can be a little…self destructive.”

Isaac stalks past me, shoulders painfully set. He’s growling, the angry sound emanating from deep in his chest. “Isaac,” Allison says as he makes his way over to the door. “Don’t leave…please.”

He twists around to face her, expression indignant. “Sorry if I don’t wanna hang around and watch you fawn over a bloodsucker,” he says, livid. Then, before Allison can say a word, he walks out of the loft, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend, lovelies! Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please comment and let me know. I'm a total comment-whore. Haha.


	33. Chapter 33

Allison exhales shakily, staring at the door. “He can’t be out there alone,” she says, voice breaking.

“We’ll go,” Scott says, grabbing Kira’s hand. They make their way over to the door, stopping in front of Allison. “He’s just worried about losing you.” He reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, smiling reassuringly. Kira gives her hand a light squeeze before they walk out the door.

I cross the room and wrap my arms around Allison. She buries her face in my neck, fisting her hands in the back of my shirt. “He loves you so much, Ali,” I whisper, running my fingers through her hair. “That’s not ever gonna change. That kind of love doesn’t just go away. It adapts…it gets stronger.” I glance over at Stiles and Derek, both of whom are staring at me. Stiles smiles, leaning back against Derek.

Allison pulls back abruptly, brushing the tears from her eyes. She clears her throat and grabs the keys to Nova’s truck. “I need to shoot something. Care to join me, Isabel,” she asks, looking over my shoulder at Isa. The wolf nods, stepping around her wife and closing the distance between us.

“Be careful,” I say, shifting out of the way.

“We will,” Allison says, glancing over at Nova. “Text me if he needs anything or…fuck…never mind…” she groans agitatedly and then walks out of the loft, Isabel hot on her heels. The door slams shut behind them, leaving the rest of us in a tense silence. 

“Well…that was…I’m not gonna lie…kind of awesome. Watching them play will-they-won’t-they is gonna be like living in an episode of ‘Grey’s Anatomy,’” Stiles says with a flirty little smirk. Derek groans, rolling his eyes and stepping back, sending Stiles straight to the ground. He glares up at Derek, who chuckles.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek says pointedly, still smirking.

“Hey, you’re the one stuck with me. Personally, I think I’m hilarious,” Stiles says with a wink. Derek takes his hand and helps him up, exhaling.

“You don’t have a return policy, do you?” he asks wickedly. Stiles shoves the wolf away from him indignantly, smirking. “I mean, I don’t even know your real name. Doesn’t that make us some kind of country music cliché?”

“Yes, it does. And, no, I’m never gonna tell you. It’s a goddamn insult to mankind,” Stiles says, slumping down on the couch next to Nova.

“It can’t be worse than Maxine,” Max says, jaw cocked to the side.

“Oh, trust me, it is.”

“I can vouch for him. It’s really bad,” I say, walking over to them.

“How’d you find out!” Stiles demands, eyes wide. I giggle manically. I’ve known for a while. I was curious, so I hacked into the police database and hunted it down. Afterward, I drank a bottle of wine and laughed my ass off. Seriously, it’s that bad.

“I kinda…hacked into the police database,” I mutter, giggling. Derek bursts out laughing, infuriating Stiles. “It was easy. You’re dad really needs to change his password. I mean, your birthday is a little obvious.” I wink at Stiles and he sticks his tongue out.

“Fucking genius,” Derek says as he walks over to me. He tucks a hand under my chin, lifts my head, and kisses me. I sigh, melting into him. His lips move slow and practiced, forcing me to give as he takes. After a moment, he pulls back, lifting his lips to my ear. “Love you.” I shiver, heart skipping a beat as his deep voice sinks into my bones.

“You want a Poptart, Max!” Stiles yells, destroying our moment. I locate him in the kitchen, glaring irritatedly. He laughs, giving me a ‘you deserved it’ look.

“As long as it’s strawberry,” Max says from her place on the couch. She has Nova’s head in her lap, running her pink nails through his hair. He snuggles into her, unconsciously reacting to her motherly touch.

“Have I told you that you’re awesome, because you are,” Stiles says as he walks over and hands her a packet of Poptarts. She giggles, watching as Stiles practically inhales his own. He does this adorable thing where he eats both of the crusts first and then the middle.

“Will you three be alright here by yourselves? I have some work I need to get done at the shop,” Derek says. I nod and he leans down, brushing a kiss along my hairline. Stiles salutes him with a half-eaten Poptart as he walks out the door.

I slump down onto the couch next to Stiles. He wraps an arm around my shoulder, tucking me up against him. A few hours pass, the three of us watching reruns of Criminal Minds. I keep an eye on Nova, worried about him. Max seems just as concerned; she never stops touching him.

Allison and Isabel return just as the sun is starting to set. Allison eyes Nova guiltily as Max picks him up, the vampire’s head lolling on against her shoulder. She drops her gaze as they pass, staring at the ground until the door closes behind them.

“Come on, Ali!” Stiles says indignantly. She lifts her gaze; eyes cutting into him like little daggers. “You’re allowed to wanna fuck Nova. The dude’s fuckin’ sexy, right, Liddy?” he says, glancing over at me. I nod, smirking. “You should tell Isaac to stop being a dick and try sucking one.” I pick up a pillow and hit Stiles with it. He laughs, stretching out on the couch.

“Poetic as always, Stiles,” she says as she slumps down into one of the dark beanbags. Stiles winks playfully.

“Wake me up is something cool happens,” he says as he turns his head into the couch, closing his eyes. I smile, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over him. He curls up, thanking me with a muffled sigh.

“Hand me one of those,” Ali says, gesturing to the blanket. I hold one out for her and she takes it, snuggling deeper into the beanbag and closing her eyes.

I lay down, deciding to join them. The sun disappears behind the horizon as I grab a blanket and drape it over myself. The TV continues to play, the white noise quickly putting me to sleep.

 

_I’m kneeling on the Nemeton, my arms and legs tied behind my back. The forest is quiet, too quiet. There aren’t any crickets singing and the wind is nonexistent. It’s cold, but not overly so. I take an unsteady breath, struggling against the ropes._

_The sound of footsteps lifts my gaze. I watch, teeth clenched, as Diana walks up to me. She’s dressed in a flowing gown of blood red. Her followers aren’t far behind, their gowns identical to hers except for their color. Where Diana’s is red, theirs are as white as snow. The other banshees circle around me, standing about ten feet from the Nemeton._

_“Lose something, Diana?” I ask, smirking. I expect an eloquent retort; instead she rushes me, slapping me hard across the face. My head is knocked to the side, the movement threatening to make me fall. Blood fills my mouth as I tongue my split lip, turning back to face her._

_“No more games, Lydia! Either you meet me here in an hour or I’ll scream, killing every human in this town,” she says, dark eyes aglow with madness. I swallow hard, heart kicking into overtime as adrenaline sears my veins._

_I know that it’s not an empty threat. She has the power to kill everyone human being in Beacon Hills, including Allison, her dad, Scott’s mom, and Stiles’ dad. There’s no way I’m going to let that happen. I’ll die before I let her hurt them. I remind myself that she doesn’t want me dead. She wants to use me like a weapon, a weapon against the very humans she’s threatening._

_“If I join you, you’ll kill them anyway. I’m not stupid,” I say tonelessly._

_“Maybe I will, but are you willing to take that risk?” she asks as she trails her nails down my cheek, drawing blood. I hold my breath, determined not to show any weakness._

_She knows how much my pack means to me, and all that she’s done is exploit my love for them. I exhale shakily, loathing the fear rising in my stomach. I can’t risk it. I won’t be the reason they die. It’s my fault my mother and Deaton died. I refuse to be the cause of more pain and bloodshed. She needs to die. It’s the only way._

_“Fine. I’m guessing you want me to come alone?” I ask, jaw locked tight._

_She smiles, all snake. “Yes. And I’ll know if you don’t.”_

I wake up still on the couch, Stiles to my left and Allison to my right. Heart aching, I stand up and fold the blanket I was using. I tiptoe into the kitchen, grabbing a notepad and a pen. If I outright tell them I’m going after Diana they’ll follow me. But if I tell them something else, maybe they won’t. My hand shakes as I write:

 

**Went for a drive. Don’t worry.            - L**

 

I set down the pen, numbness flooding my body. Stomach churning, I grab my purse and drive to my dorm. Thankfully, Kira isn’t there. She must’ve stayed with Scott and Isaac at their apartment. Quickly, I make my way up the stairs and rush into Allison’s room.

I pull open her nightstand. Inside, a sleek gun sits on a bed of shaped foam, loaded clip to its left. Holding my breath, I grab the gun and the clip, sliding the clip in and cocking it. Allison insisted on teaching me to shoot a few years ago, but I haven’t touched a gun since. It’s heavier than I remember, the metal smooth and supple against fingers. I slip the gun into my purse and make my way back downstairs.

Acutely aware of what I am about to do, I get into my car and take off down the road that leads to the Nemeton. It’s one of those places you can only find if you’ve been there before. The tree is magic. It’s the reason Beacon Hills is home to so many supernaturals. Buried deep in its roots somewhere is the Nogitsune, trapped in the body of a fly. It’s the tree’s power that contains him. I guess its kind of a fitting place to end this.

I pull down a side road and drive for a few miles. When the road ends I kill my engine and start off into the forest. It’s dark, but the moon is high, illuminating the trees. I follow the unmarked path almost instinctually, my ‘banshee senses,’ as Stiles calls them, leading me toward the Nemeton.

It comes into view a few seconds later. Diana is seated on the enormous stump, her banshees circled around her. They’re dressed just as they were in my dream, gorgeous gowns of white and red.

“Right on time. At least we know you have one good quality, darling,” Diana says, voice pure velvet. I grit my teeth, swallowing a sarcastic comment. Allison was right, Stiles’ sense of humor is rubbing off on me. Fisting my hands and squaring my shoulders, I approach her. “What’s with the tears, my love? Come now, your face will get all puffy and red.”

I angrily brush the tears from my eyes, taking a deep breath. She smiles wickedly, her head cocked to the side. “No tears. I can do that,” I say, switching into bitch mode. I can do this. Allison kills monsters all of the time. And that’s all Diana is…a monster.

“There you go!” she says with bright smile, speaking to me like I am a child. I grit my teeth, wanting nothing more than to tear her throat out. One bullet…one bullet and this is over. “Now, how about we get started? The sooner we get this over with the sooner we can be on our way.”

“This?” I mutter, watching as she stands up. She gives one of her banshees a pointed look and the woman disappears into the trees, returning a moment later with a girl in tow. I don’t recognize her for a moment, but then she lifts her gaze. Her mismatched eyes tear into me, bloodshot and filled with tears. I keep my expression blank, not wanting Diana to know that I’m familiar with Willa.

“Lydia, this is Willa. But you already knew that, didn’t you? After all, she’s the one that told you where Allison was,” Diana says, smirking humorlessly. The violence in her eyes is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. It’s ruthless and without bounds. She’s capable of tearing the world apart and that’s exactly what she intends to do. If that’s what it takes to get what she wants, she’ll do it.

“What are you going to do with her?” I ask, doing my best to keep my voice slow and even. Diana grins, glancing over at Willa.

“She’s going to link you to me. Once she does that, she’s free to go.” Diana motions for the banshee to bring Willa over. My heart starts to beat faster. What does she mean by link? There are dozens of different kinds of links. I’m linked to Nova, Stiles, Derek, and the rest of the pack, all in different ways.

“What kind of link?” I ask, hating the way that my voice shakes.

“The kind that forces you to do everything that I say,” Diana says nonchalantly, fisting a hand in Willa’s curls. She forces the witch to stand next to the Nemeton, motioning for her banshees to hold Willa in place.

I can’t let this happen. If Willa links me to my mother, I really will become her weapon. She’ll be able to use me however she wants. One word from her and I’ll kill whoever she says, including the people that I love.

I pull out Allison’s gun, aiming it at her heart. Diana closes the distance between us, her steps graceful and practiced, completely ignoring the gun pointed at her. Then, before I can react, she grabs my hair and wrenches my head back. The gun slips from my fingers as my knees cave. She yanks me down, threatening to rip the hair from my scalp. I gasp, tears brimming in my eyes.

She bends down, hand still fisted in my hair. “A gun, really, Lydia?” Her eyes cut into me and I hate how scared of her I am. She lifts her gaze to one of her banshees and nods. I gasp as a gag is forced into my mouth. There’s a tiny click, letting me know that it’s got a lock on the back. “Now, now, Lydia. No need to get upset. I’ll take it off after you’re linked to me,” she says, like she’s giving me a gift.

She uses my hair as leverage, lifting me up and pulling me over to stand next to the Nemeton. I struggle, frantically searching for the gun, but I can’t see it anywhere. My scream is the only weapon I have left and it’s utterly useless. Two of her banshees take my arms, holding me in place while she moves around the trunk to face me.

Fuck! How could I be so stupid? All I had to do was pull the trigger. It was that simple. But I screwed it up and I have no idea how I’m going to get out of this. I should’ve told Stiles and Derek. I wanted to spare them, but I condemned myself in the process.

“You’re turn,” Diana says to Willa who whimpers softly. Diana smiles in a mock motherly fashion. “No need to worry dear. Do this right and I’ll probably let you live.” Willa nods, her whole body shaking with fear.

“I need to cut your hands,” Willa says, voice a mere whisper. Diana nods and one of the banshees produces a silver dagger, handing it to Willa. Diana holds out her hand and Willa cuts it, blood welling to the surface. “Put your palm down on the tree.” Diana does as instructed, eyes on me. I fist my hands at my sides determined not to do this.

“Come now, Lydia. I thought you were smarter than this. Either you give Willa your hand or I’ll slit her throat and we’ll find ourselves another witch,” she says ferociously. Glaring at her, I hold my hand out for Willa. She repeats the process, cutting the palm of my hand and pressing it down onto the tree. I shudder, reacting to the tree’s immense power.

“I need my bag,” Wills murmurs, dropping her gaze. I have seen her strength, but she’s scared and it’s paralyzing. I don’t blame her for giving in. Were I in her place, I’d do exactly what Diana told me to do.

Diana motions to one of her banshees and the woman disappears into the forest, returning a minute later with Willa’s black bag in hand. She gives it to Diana, who looks through it and hands it to Willa. The witches’ hands shake as she reaches into her bag, pulling out her little pouch of snake bones, some herbs, and three candles.

I look up at the full moon, stomach slowly consuming itself. I pray that Derek can feel my fear. As his mate, he’ll be able to find me. But can he do it in time? The rational part of me says no and I can’t argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a short chapter. But I promise the next one makes up for it. ;)  
> I could be persuaded to post another chapter this weekend. Bribe me with comments, Lovelies! Haha.


	34. Chapter 34

\- Derek -

 

Something is wrong. If feels like my ribs are caving in, slowly slicing their way deep into my lungs. I can’t breathe. My wolf is thrashing and clawing, just under the surface of my skin. I’m taken with a violent urge to shift. Gasping, I slide out from beneath the car and struggle to my feet.

I drop my socket wrench and stumble through the shop, eyesight shifting from human to wolf. It’s Lydia. I can feel her fear thrumming though me, beating in my heart. She’s terrified.

I get into Nova’s truck and pull out my phone, pressing Stiles’ name and lifting it to my ear. It rings a few times before he answers, voice thick and groggy, “You do realize sleep is a vital-”

“Stiles! Please tell me that you’re with Lydia and that you’re both safe!” I growl, my voice all wolf. I clutch my chest, struggling to breathe. God, it fucking hurts. My body starts to shake, the urge to shift overwhelming me. Stiles remains painfully silent, but his breathing speeds up. He’s going to have a panic attack. “Stiles! Talk to me, baby. Where is she?”

“I…I…she was…” There’s a slight scuffle and then a thump, making me wonder if Stiles dropped the phone. I gasp, spine caving as pain splits my veins. Lydia’s hurt and Stiles is in the midst of a panic attack.

It starts to rain, water pelting the windshield. Dark clouds pool overhead, the storm reacting to Stiles’ emotional state. I hate that I’m not with him, that I can’t hold him until he can breathe again. I’m torn between them, but Lydia needs me more right now.

“It’s okay, Stiles, just breathe,” Allison says, her voice muffled as she picks up his phone. “She’s gone, Derek. There’s a note on the table that says she went for a drive.” I grit my teeth, struggling with my wolf. He wants blood. I haven’t felt this out of control since I was a child.

I close my eyes, focusing on my link to Lydia. It’s stretched tight and throbbing, but as strong as ever. Exhaling unsteadily, I try to picture where she is. I see a rapid glimpse of the Nemeton and a redheaded woman who looks just like Lydia. I pull back, blinking rapidly.

“Diana has her at the Nemeton. Have everyone-” I gasp, the shift taking me mid-sentence. Grabbing the door handle, I shove it open, my phone hitting the pavement as I fall. The shift is quick and painful, bones cracking, bending, and molding back together. In seconds, I’m standing on four feet instead of two, the cold rain drenching my fur.

I drop my head, exhaling. My chest still hurts, but the urge to shift is gone. Aware that Allison didn’t get all of my orders, I lift my head up and howl. My pack bond vibrates as Scott, Isaac, Isa, and Max all shift. I take a deep breath, scenting the air, and then start running towards the Nemeton.

The wolves in my pack locate me in minutes, running towards me from the east. They fall into line, Isabel at my right and Isaac at my left…my best fighter and my successor, as is the way it has always been. Isa flashes me a stern look and Isaac growls, ears drawn backward. 

We run through he forest, heavy paws falling silent on the wet leaves. The forest is quiet, far too quiet. It’s as if it can sense the carnage that is about to take place, as if it were bracing itself for the worst.

_“What’s the plan, Der?”_ Isabel asks, her voice echoing around in my head.

_“You distract the other banshees. I’ll take Diana out,”_ I say to all of them. I’m sick of her hurting Lydia. I’m going to tear her to shreds and enjoy every minute of it. No one touches what’s mine.

_“We’ll only be able to withstand their screams for a matter of minutes,”_ Max says, glancing over at Isa. They share a look, reminding me that Lydia’s life isn’t the only one on the line here. One wrong move and anyone could die. We play this wrong and we’re dead.

_“Then we move quick. There can’t be many left. We killed at least twenty of the bitches earlier,”_ Isaac says with a fierce growl. I glance over at him. He has a point, but Isaac is far from a voice of reason.

Something moves past us in the trees. I scent the wind, but all I can smell is rain and damp earth. It’s not a banshee. There’s no way one would be able to keep up with a pack of wolves. I cock my ear to the side, listening for any sign of danger. Does Diana have other supernatural on her side? It doesn’t sound like something a purist like her would allow, but still.

It moves past us again, a simple blur of darkness. _“Did any of you see that?”_

_“It’s Nova,”_ Max says, looking to her left. The vampire moves out of the tree line, running next to her at a steady pace. I catch his gaze and he smirks, flashing his wicked set of fangs. I don’t trust him yet, not the way Lydia does, but I do trust his devotion to her. And I know he can fight. I’ve seen him tear bodies apart, savage them like a monster.

“Who gets to do the honors?” he asks, smirking. I growl stridently and he laughs. “Got it, chief. She’s all yours.”

We run for another minute, coming up to the edge of the clearing. The banshees are circled around the Nemeton, shining like beacons in their white dresses. There aren’t many left, maybe fifteen tops. Diana is dressed in red, kneeling before the Nemeton. Lydia is sitting across from her, head thrown back, rain streaming down her pale face. She’s gagged, infuriating me.

I’m surprised when I see Willa sitting with them. For half a second I wonder why she’s here, but then I notice her eyes. They’re white. She’s in the middle of a spell, one involving Diana and Lydia. I grit my teeth, overcome with fury.

_“Fan out,”_ I say curtly. They do as instructed, surrounding the banshees while staying hidden in the tree line. Nova follows their lead, placing himself between Max and Isaac. Once everyone is in place I growl, signaling the attack.

Nova is the first to strike. He’s ripped out the throats of three banshees before they even realize what’s going on. Isaac is half a second behind him, lunging at one of them. She opens her mouth to scream, but his jaws close around her neck before she can make a sound.

Max and Isa move as a seamless team. Max is fast. She attacks quick, wounding them, and then leaves them for her wife. Isa stalks along behind her, destroying everything in her path. I’m reminded why I tried to stay on her good side when we were little. She’s growling like a fucking Pit Bull, thrashing a banshee left and right until the woman stops moving.

Scott and Kira move in and out of the shadows, attacking and then receding back into the darkness. Kira’s katana glints in the moonlight as she wields it, her movements precise and graceful. When Scott was young, he refused to kill, but he has since learned the difference between innocent people and monsters.

Stiles is close. I can feel his presence just as I can feel the rain on my fur. But I can’t see him anywhere. He must be hidden in the trees. Unlike the rest of us, he doesn’t have a switch he can switch off an on. Either it’s there or it’s not.

A scream rips through the air as I cross the clearing. The sound cuts through my ears, slicing into my scull. I do my best to ignore it, stepping over a dismembered corpse. Willa’s candles blaze, the flames turning purple.

A banshee advances on me, sliver knife in hand. She opens her mouth and lets out a scream that makes my vision blur. Growling, I ease back on my haunches and lunge at her. I knock her to the ground, clamp my teeth around her bottom jaw and bite down. There’s a disgusting crunch and she stops moving, her blood filling my mouth. Pulling back, I step over her body, eyes fixed on Lydia.

Her head is still thrown back, hair wet with rain. Whatever Willa is doing, she’s doing it to Lydia. Diana looks unaffected, simply ignoring the slaughter of her fellow banshees in favor of watching Willa’s spell take hold.

An arrow flies past me and the screaming stops. I glance over, watching the banshee hit the ground with an arrow through her heart. Allison grins at me from the darkness of the trees, ebony eyes alight. She loves the hunt almost as much as Isaac, which is saying something.

“Nice shot, bambi!” Nova says, lifting his head from a banshee’s neck. Blood runs down his face, staining his teeth as he smiles.

“Thanks!” Allison says with a laugh. Isaac stalks between them, yellow eyes fixed on Nova. He growls, a blatant display of territory.

“Oh, fuck off, dickhead!” Nova says, baring his fangs. Isaac lunges at him, but Nova is too fast. “Whatcha gonna do, wolfie, growl at me?” Nova lifts his hand, licking the blood from his fingertips. Isaac stands transfixed, staring at the vampire.

_“Stop mind-fucking your vampire, Isaac!”_ I yell, breaking him out of his own head. He takes a step back, shakes his head, and then runs at the nearest banshee. She screams for half a second before lunges at her, ripping out her throat in one swift movement.

“Hold still so I can kill you,” Nova says to my left, his irises dilating. The banshee standing before him stills, green eyes seething. He walks up to her, sucking the blood from his lip rings.

“Disgusting vampire. Filthy-” Allison shoots an arrow through the banshee’s neck cutting her off. Nova glances over at Allison, who shrugs nonchalantly.

There’s one banshee standing between me and Lydia. Isa darts in front of me, locking her jaws around the banshee’s side. The banshee screams, struggling to unlock Isa’s jaws. Max stalks past me, her golden fur painted with blood. Isa forces the banshee to her knees and Max tears her head off.

Max walks over to Isa, licking at a wound on Isabel’s leg. Isa noses her neck softly until Max lifts her gaze. Allison steps out of the trees, her bow pulled pack and aimed at Diana. Isaac and Scott move to flank me as I approach the Nemeton. Kira stays back, her katana held high. Nova, on the other hand, is kneeling on a corpse to my left, teeth buried deep in the banshee’s neck.

“Stop what you’re doing!” Allison says to Willa. The witch makes no move, giving Allison no indication that she heard her. Maybe she can’t stop mid-spell. “Stop or I’ll put an arrow through your heart!” I remember that Allison has no idea who Willa is. She doesn’t know that Willa was the one that found her. Lydia told her Willa’s name, but she doesn’t know what the witch looks like.

I catch Allison’s gaze and growl, shaking my head at her. Brows drawn, she shifts her aim back to Diana. I take a step towards Diana, who lifts a hand, stopping me in my tracks. Slowly, she turns to look at me.

“What pretty fur you have?” she says with a smile.

Nova lifts his head from the banshee’s neck and scoffs. “Quoting a werewolf! Oh, the irony!” he says, licking his lips. “You need some new material, bitch. I’ve only met you twice, but I’m thoroughly unimpressed.”

Diana glares at him, eyeing him like he’s the most disgusting thing she’s ever seen. “I should’ve staked you when I had the chance,” she says viciously.

Nova shrugs, “I agree. And you might’ve had me if it weren’t for those meddling kids!” He bursts out laughing. Allison giggles, oddly amused by Nova’s manic sense of humor.

“Filthy bloodsucker! I intended on ridding this world of werewolves first, but maybe I’ll start with your kind instead,” Diana says, lip turned up in a sneer. “Vampires don’t deserve to walk among us. Low-life trash! That’s what you are!” The hatred in her voice is absolute. None of her threats are empty. If given half the chance she’ll kill off every supernatural on the planet.

Nova stands up, the humor disappearing from his dark eyes. “Hold still and keep your mouth shut,” he says, irises dilating. Diana freezes, mouth clamped shut. Nova gasps, breath hitching as Diana struggles against his compulsion. She glares at him, her muscles twitching as his hold on her slips. It takes incredible focus to break a vampire’s compulsion. You have to want it more than anything…you have to need it. Nova’s heartbeat speeds back up as his control slips. Diana laughs as she watches him collapse.

“Nova!” Allison says sharply, dropping her bow and running over to him. She falls to her knees, reaching out to lay a hand on his face. He’s unconscious, heartbeat slowly returning to normal.

Diana sighs resignedly, glancing over at Lydia. “Looks like the spell is going to have to wait, darling,” she says and then she stands up. The second she lifts her hand off of the Nemeton, Lydia and Willa are thrown backward, both of them seemingly unconscious. I focus on the sound of Lydia’s heartbeat. She’s alive.

Diana looks over at me and then starts to scream. The other banshees’ screams were child’s play compared to Diana’s. It bores its way into my head, knocking me down in seconds. I paw at my ears, whimpering. It feels like I’m being stabbed, tiny needles slowly piercing my scull. I struggle to get back to my feet, but my muscles give out, quivering.

A massive ring of fire forms around Diana and the Nemeton. Startled, she stops screaming. Gasping, I force my legs to take my weight, standing up. The flames circled around Diana are massive, shifting in a way that no natural fire ever would.

“What the hell is this!” she screams as she tries to get around the flames. Whenever she gets close to the wall they rage higher, the flames biting at her like snakes. Furious, she starts to scream again. I plant my feet, determined to stay standing up.

A shift in the trees catches my eye. I watch as Stiles walks out of the darkness, his eyes the color of ice. But he’s not Stiles, not really. My Stiles never walks smoothly, never stops moving his hands, and never has a blank expression on his face. The person walking towards Diana is the elemental that lives inside of Stiles. They are as different as night and day.

The rainfall gets heavier, coming down in painful sheets. And yet, the flames caging Diana rage ever higher. Wind circles around us, whipping at my fur as it throws leaves like weapons. Stiles walks calmly through the storm, completely unaffected by it.

I drop my head, watching a droplet of my blood drip onto the ground. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take. I count off heartbeats. Everyone is still alive, but for how long?

“Stop,” Stiles says, his voice toneless and ethereal. It echoes around us, a command from Nature herself. As an elemental, Stiles is simply a vessel for her power. The flames give way as Stiles walks through them, entering the circle. Diana shuts her mouth, stumbling away from him.

“What are you?” she asks, voice raw.

“I am the beginning and the end,” Stiles says solemnly, closing the distance between them. Diana backs up until she can’t anymore. “You have perverted yourself and your species. You have killed innocents. It is for these reasons that I condemn you.”

“Condemn me? You think you can kill me?” Diana says with a psychotic laugh.

Stiles fists a hand in her hair and forces her to kneel on the Nemeton. The fire around them disappears, leaving a ring of smoke in its wake. “I could kill you, but I am not going to. I think I will give the honor to the young wolf prince. The Hales have always been very faithful to me.”

Stiles’ eyes cut through me as he pulls her head back, baring her neck to me. I walk up to stand on the Nemeton. Remembering everything my mother ever taught me about our Great Mother, I bow my head and drop my gaze.

“Let go of me!” Diana screams, struggling against Stiles’ hold. I lift my head hesitantly. Stiles waits for me to straighten up, looking him in the eyes, and then he nods. With a furious growl, I lunge at Diana, burying my teeth deep in her throat. Viciously, I pull back, tearing her throat out. Blood sprays from her corpse, painting my white fur crimson.

Stiles steps back, letting Diana’s body fall from the Nemeton. His crystalline eyes meet mine once again. “You will do nicely, Derek Hale. I chose well.” He smiles ever so slightly and then collapses onto the ground. The wind, rain, and lightning cease instantly, leaving us standing, wet and bloody, in a grove of bodies.

I shift back, utterly torn between Stiles and Lydia. They’re laying twenty feet from one another, both unconscious. “Scott, get Stiles!” I say sharply as I rush over to Lydia. Allison and Nova aren’t far behind, the vampire looking like he just got the shit kicked out of him.

I drop to my knees before Lydia, reaching out to touch her with shaking hands. Her skin is cold, but her heartbeat is steady. Chest aching, I tear off her gag and lift her into my arms, accepting Allison’s jacket and draping it over her.

Isaac walks over and lifts Willa into his arms, cradling the witch’s frail body. “Who is she?” Allison asks, eyes fixed on the little witch.

“Willa,” Isaac says, voice cracking. Allison nods guiltily. I give her an understanding look. She shouldn’t be angry with herself for threatening Willa. She had no idea who the witch was.

“Would you mind calling John? I’m sure he and Chris will figure some way to cover this up,” I say to Allison, who nods, pulling out her phone.

She dials the number and explains what happened to John as she leads us to where they parked the cars. “I donno, maybe fifteen? You’ll figure something out, Sherriff, you always do. Yes, I’m aware this isn’t in your job description. Yeah, Stiles is fine. I swear to God, he’s fine! Do you want me to send you a picture of him passed out in Scott’s arms?” John says something about her being related to Lydia and Allison laughs. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll have him call you when he wakes up. Bye.”

We get into the cars, Allison and Max driving us back to my loft. We make our way upstairs, Isaac depositing Willa in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs.

“Where do you want the invalid?” Scott says with an affectionate glance down at Stiles. I look the elemental over slowly. The wolf in me wants him safe in my bed and I’m really not in the mood to argue with my animal side.

“My bed,” I say, expecting some backlash, or at least a little teasing, but he just nods and makes his way upstairs. He returns a few minutes later, a huge stack of blankets and pillow in his arms.

“We’re taking the other guest room. Night, Der,” Isa says, kissing me on the cheek. I reach out and run my finger down Max’s nose, an affectionate gesture for the mates of one’s family. She smile softly, taking Isa’s hand and letting her wife lead her upstairs.

Scott set the blankets and pillows on the coffee table, grabbing a couple for him and Kira. They make their way downstairs, Kira yawing animatedly. I cradle Lydia gently in my arms, watching Allison, Isaac, and Nova stand awkwardly in the living room.

“I’m gonna go…not be here…” Nova says and then he’s gone. Allison and Isaac stare at each other, tension passing between them.

“If you’re gonna throw down, make sure you do it outside,” I say, too tired to deal with their…whatever the fuck it is. Exhaling, I carry Lydia upstairs and into my bedroom, closing the door behind us.

Carefully, I lay her down next to Stiles, strip off her jeans, and slide into bed next to them. Stiles shifts unconsciously towards Lydia as I tuck an arm around them. They’re safe. Both of them are safe. And mine…all mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consider me bribed, lovelies! Haha.  
> One chapter to go...or not depending on whether or not you're gonna stick around for the spin-off. Which I hope all of you do. It's gonna be sexy and angsty and fluffy...all the good stuff. Allison/Nova/Isaac! Need I say more? If you're not in love with Nova yet, there's something wrong with you.  
> Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I promise I'll post the final chapter in Banshee Blood within the next few days. I won't make you wait a whole week. ;)


	35. Chapter 35

I jolt upright, chest heaving. For half a second I think I’m still back at the Nemeton, Willa casting a spell on me, but then Derek growls, nosing my neck softly. Tears in my eyes, I twist around to face him. He graces me with a gentle smile, body covered in blood and dirt.

“Oh my God,” I say, throwing myself into his arms. He tucks me up against his chest, lowering us both back down onto the bed. “You’re alive,” I sob, clinging to him while simultaneously feeling around for Stiles. I accidentally grab his face and he groans, making me smile.

“Watch the face, Liddy. I’ve been told it’s my best feature,” he says groggily. I scramble out of Derek’s arms, assaulting Stiles with kisses. He pushes me away, mumbling something about needing his sleep.

“You better kiss me back,” I say, taunting him playfully. Derek chuckles, propping his head up on his hand. “You better kiss me back or I’m gonna replace every single box of Poptarts in this loft with health food. And not just normal health food, it’ll be that-” He grabs hold of my waist, twisting me around and tucking me beneath him. I arch an eyebrow as he looms over me, smirking.

“You know how much I hate Raisin Bran,” he says as he leans down to kiss me. I laugh, burying a hand in his messy hair. I pull back, fist my other hand in Derek’s shirt, and yank him forward for a kiss. He growls into my mouth, lips far more demanding than Stiles.’ I open my mouth, smirking as his tongue twists around mine.

Stiles groans, rolling over to lay next to me. I pull away from Derek, who buries his head in my neck. “I promise I won’t mess with your Poptarts. No need to get growly…that’s Derek’s job.” The wolf chuckles, kissing his way down my neck and across my shoulder.

Stiles throws an arm over his eyes. “What the fuck happened last night? Did we get crazy shit-faced with the banshees, because I have like the worst hangover ever,” he says as he, rubbing his temples. Derek grabs him, lifts him over me, and places Stiles between us. “Seriously, Sourwolf?” Stiles mutters as Derek buries his face in the elemental’s neck, scenting him. 

“Seriously, Stiles,” Derek says playfully, voiced muffled.

I run through the events of last night. The last thing I can remember is kneeling in front of the Nemeton as Willa cast a spell. I must’ve blacked out after that. How the hell did I end up here? I reach out and put my hand on Stiles’ chest, just to make sure that I’m not dreaming, that this isn’t some sick banshee hallucination.

“I blacked out after Willa started her spell. What happened? Is everyone okay?” I ask, fear rising in my chest. It spreads through my body, consuming me.

“Yeah…and did I get hit on the head?” Stiles mutters, blinking hard.  

Derek sits up, looking down at the two of us attentively. His eyes are calm, steady. I exhale shakily. If someone had died he would’ve told me already. Derek’s not one to beat around the bush. He doesn’t bullshit. Everyone’s okay, but what the hell happened? And where is Diana?

“We killed all of Diana’s followers. Nova threatened her so she broke the spell, but before she could attack us, Stiles showed up.” He reaches over to cup Stiles’s face, trailing a finger around the outside of his eye. Stiles’ brows furrow and he swallows, worried.

“I don’t remember that,” he says softly.

“You wouldn’t,” Derek murmurs, dropping his hand down to brush Stiles’ lips. The elemental shudders, breath hitching. “You weren’t exactly lucid.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, curling my body around Stiles. He tucks an arm around me and leans down to place a kiss on my head. I look up at Derek, who’s staring down at us fixedly. There’s an absolution in his eyes, a promise. Stiles and I are his life…his everything. It’s enough to terrify me. I’m not sure I deserve to be looked at the way he’s looking at me.

“Mother Nature took you over,” Derek says bluntly, as if Stiles being possessed by a goddess is a completely normal thing. Stiles and I gape at him, unsure how to respond. “It’s rare, but not abnormal. Diana was perverting the banshee faith, so our Great Mother passed judgment.”

“So…she’s dead?” I ask, mouth dry.

Derek brushes a lock of hair from my face, nodding solemnly. “Stiles held her in place while I tore her throat out.” Concern cuts across his face as he trails his fingers down my face. “I’m sorry, Lydia.” I swallow hard, fighting against the dryness in my throat. I thought I would be happy…I should be happy, right? She killed my mother and she would’ve killed Ali and Nova. But instead of elation or relief, I just feel empty.

“I should be happy, shouldn’t I?”

Stiles catches my gaze, holding me in place. “No,” he says with a shake of his head. “There’s no should or shouldn’t where death is concerned. I mean, yeah she was a murdering psychopath, but she was still a person. No one should be happy that another person died, no matter how terrible they were.” The understanding in Stiles’ eyes breaks my heart. The loss of his mother lives inside of him, beating away like a second heart.

“I just…” I trail off, tears brimming in my eyes.

“C’mere,” Stiles says, pulling me into his arms. He holds me tight as I cry, whispering soft things to me. Derek runs a hand through my hair, letting Stiles do all of the talking. God, I love them. I love Stiles’ wild heart and Derek’s unwavering loyalty. I love the way that they love me…and the way they love each other. I don’t know what I’d do if they weren’t mine.

After a while I pull back, brush away my tears, and smile hesitantly. They both watch me, expressions taut with concern, as I exhale shakily, hiccupping. Heart in my throat, I sit up, folding my arms around my chest. Last night could’ve ended a lot differently. They both could have died.

“We love you too, baby,” Derek says, leaning over to place a whisper-soft kiss on my lips. He pulls back, flashes me a smirk, and then slides off the bed.

Stiles plays with the end of one of my curls, the two of us watching Derek as he grabs some fresh clothes from the dresser. It’s hard not to appreciate him naked. I mean, he is, as Stiles would say, Derek ‘fuck me now’ Hale. Derek turns around unabashedly and I blush, dropping my gaze. Stiles chuckles, staring brazenly at Derek’s half-hard cock.

“You want some help with that?” Stiles asks shamelessly.

Derek chuckles, eyes heavy with love. “Let’s save shower sex for a time when the lofts not full of werewolves,” he says with a pointed look at the door. Stiles pouts as Derek disappears into the bathroom.

I lean over to whisper into his ear. “Wanna suck him off together tonight?” I ask, blushing furiously. Stiles bursts out laughing, fists a hand in my curls, and kisses me hard. I giggle as he presses me down into the bed. Pulling back, he holds my gaze.

“I fucking love you, Lydia Martin,” he says, shaking his head like he can’t believe that I’m real. I lift my head, kissing him slow and desperate. He runs a hand up my thigh, groaning as I arch into his hard cock. Breathless, he kisses his way down my neck, one hand wrapped around my waist. He feathers his thumb across my nipple and I whimper, head fogging.

“If you’re gonna fuck with company, Der, at least soundproof your house!” Isa yells from the hallway. Stiles lifts his head, giving me a wicked smirk, and I burst out laughing.

“Derek’s in the shower, Isa!” Stiles yells.

Max laughs manically. “Told you,” she says, the two of them making their way down the stairs. Isa says something that I can’t catch, but it makes Max laugh even harder. Those two remind me a lot of Stiles and Derek.

Aware that everyone in the house can hear us, Stiles and I decide now is not the opportune time to be making out. We slide off of Derek’s massive bed as the wolf walks out of the bathroom, water droplets cascading down his perfect body. Stiles takes one look at him, swears loudly, and then walks into the bathroom.

“What was…” Derek trails off, inhaling the scent of arousal in the room. His pupils dilate, eyes turning red. I grab one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers, smirk, and then walk out of his bedroom. He growls as I make my way down the hall and step into the guest bathroom.

I shower slowly, taking advantage of Derek’s seemingly endless supply of hot water. I can’t believe Diana is actually dead. It feels like the knife that’s been buried in my heart for weeks has been drawn clean. I can breathe again.

Dressed in Derek’s shirt and boxers, I leave the bathroom and descend the stairs. Allison is on me before I make it to the bottom step. She pulls me into her arms, holding me tight. I breathe in her soft perfume, smiling. My heart aches with the thought of how close I came to losing her.

“Are you okay?” she asks, pulling back but not letting go. Her brows are drawn with concern, dark eyes steady and sincere. “I was so worried about you.”

I smile gently, dropping my hand to hers. “I’m good,” I say, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “What about you?” I glance over her shoulder at Isaac, who is asleep on the couch. His expression is content, his wolf settled; he and Allison must’ve at least come to a temporary stalemate.

She follows my gaze to Isaac, smiling at the sight of him. “We’re alright…at least for now,” she says, swallowing. I nod, pulling her into another hug.

We walk through the living room to the kitchen. Derek and Stiles are sitting at the table with Max and Isabel. Max says something and Stiles bursts out laughing, head thrown back, utterly carefree. Derek watches him laugh, eyes burning with love. The sight of them makes my stomach clench with happiness.

Derek pulls me into his lap as Allison sits down next to Stiles. I lean into Derek, letting him scent me as I search for Scott and Kira. They must still be asleep, because I can’t see them anywhere. Derek’s stubble scraps my jaw and I giggle, squirming. He growls, tightening his hold on me, a smirk playing on his lips.

A few minutes later Willa comes walking down the stairs, furiously trying to tie her hair back into a bun. She comes to a stop in the middle of the living room, eyeing us with her mismatched eyes.

“You okay?” Stiles ask her gently.

Willa’s brows furrow, jaw dropping in disbelief. “No! I’m not okay! I just almost got murdered by a banshee cult!” she says loudly, giving up on trying to tie back her hair. “You owe me, Stiles!” She exhales exasperatedly and then stalks out of the loft.

Isa purses her lip, eyeing the door. “I just remembered why I don’t like witches.” She glances at Derek who smirks.

“Our dad hated witches, said they ruined Harry Potter for him,” Derek says, making Stiles laugh. Isa smiles, memories alight in her gorgeous eyes. “He said they were much cooler battling dragons and playing Quidditch.”

“Seriously though,” Stiles says with a laugh, nodding. “Well…I’m starving. Anybody want some bacon? Or I can make omelets. I fuckin’ love omlets, except when they have green peppers. Who the fuck willingly puts green peppers in anything?” He pulls a face and I giggle, leaning back against Derek.

“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. I’ll have Nova bring doughnuts,” Max says, pulling out her phone to send the vampire a text. Allison pales significantly, biting her lip as she turns to look at the door. Ten seconds later, Nova struts into the loft, two boxes of doughnuts in tow.

He yawns, setting the boxes down on the table. “I got the works,” he says, flipping open the boxes. Inside is an assortment of glazed, frosted, and sprinkled doughnuts. Stiles moans, causing Derek’s cock to harden against my leg. I slip him a smirk and he chuckles.

“You’re officially forgiven for fang-fucking me, dude,” Stiles says, grabbing two chocolate doughnuts and shoving half of one into his mouth.

Nova arches an eyebrow. “Thanks…I think…” he says, amused. Stiles steps past him, mumbling something about coffee. Isa and Max each grab a couple of doughnuts, Max kissing Nova on the cheek as she takes a glazed one. He hisses playfully, making her laugh.

I slide off of Derek’s lap and he gets up, turning one of the boxes to face us. I take a glazed doughnut and he grabs a couple different ones. I watch from the corner of my eye as Nova grabs a raspberry filled doughnut with powdered sugar on top, places it on a napkin, and sets it in front of Allison. She stares at it, jaw clenched tight. I smile; Allison has a thing for eating healthy, but she once told me she’d live on raspberry filled doughnuts if she could get away with it.

“It’s not a marriage contract, bambi. It’s just a doughnut,” Nova says, turning away from Allison. She glances up at him and then drops her gaze, staring fixedly at the pastry. After a moment or so deliberation, she picks it up, swiping her tongue across the powdered sugar. Nova pretends not to watch, but he is.

Stiles grabs another doughnut and walks into the living room. “Wake up, dickhead! Nova brought doughnuts,” he says, tossing a throw pillow at Isaac. The wolf growls irately, bolting upright.

“Don’t call me that, Stilinksi,” he mutters, eyes flashing yellow.

“Why? Is Nova the only one allowed to call you a dickhead? Your boyfriend already got a cute little nickname for you?” Stiles says, baiting Isaac off the couch. Growling, he lunges at Stiles, who bolts back into the kitchen and ducks behind Derek.

“Punkass little-”

“Back off, Isaac. Punkass is right…but he’s my punkass,” Derek says, eyes burning red. Isaac backs down, glaring at Stiles, who laughs into Derek’s back. Nova chuckles and, in instant, the wolf and the vampire are at each other’s throats.

Isaac shoves Nova into a wall, the sheetrock caving inward. He hisses, baring his wicked fangs. Isaac throws a punch, but Nova ducks low and jabs him right in the kidney. Isaac growls, shoving Nova further into the wall. The vampire gasps, the air knocked out of him. Taking advantage, Isaac punches him in the stomach, causing Nova to double over.

I take a step toward them, but Derek wraps a concrete arm around me. I struggle against his hold, but it’s no use. “Dammit, Derek! Let me go!” I yell, elbowing him in the stomach. He doesn’t respond; so I look up at him, ready to rip him open with a furious glare. But I stop short when I notice that he’s not even looking Nova and Isaac, instead, his eyes are fixed on Allison.

She’s standing at the end of the table, hands clamped around the wood. She watches as Nova’s control slips. He grabs Isaac’s shirt, twists the wolf around, and shoves him into the indented wall.

“You think you’re so much better than me, don’t you!” Nova hisses, charcoal eyes furious and unrelenting. There’s hurt in his voice, a quiet breaking that makes my heart fucking ache.

“I am better than you! You’re a parasite!” Isaac growls, punching Nova in the face. The vampire’s lip comes back bloody. His tongue darts out, licking away a tiny drop of bloody. The movement catches Isaac’s eye. The wolf’s lips part, expression shifting subtly from angry to aroused. Isaac’s breath hitches and he takes a step back, distancing himself from the vampire.

Nova leans into Isaac, his voice dead calm, “You need to work on your insults, dickhead. You can do better than parasite! If you really wanna get to me, try slut or whore. Those are-” Nova’s phone rings, cutting him off. He takes a step away from Isaac, pulls it out of his pocket, and is gone in an instant.

“Fucker,” Isaac growls, starting towards the door. Allison pushes off of the table and skirts around a chair, stopping in front of him. Chest heaving, she slaps him across the face. The sound reverberates around the loft, followed by a silence so dense you could cut it with a butter knife.

“Don’t you ever talk to him like that again!” she says, voice ice-cold. Isaac growls, the sound low and threatening. In an instant, Derek has crossed the room and is shoving Isaac out the front door. Isa stands up and follows them, ever Derek’s faithful right hand.

“Calm the fuck down! What’ve I told you about letting your temper get the…” Derek’s voice dies out as he forces Isaac into the elevator.

“Anyone else a little bit turned on?” Stiles asks, mouth full of doughnuts. I roll my eyes as I sit down. I eat slowly, worried about Allison. She’s staring at what’s left of her raspberry doughnut, brows drawn. My plan to get the three of them together might be a little harder than I originally thought.

Nova stalks back into the kitchen a few minutes later, a truly vicious smile on his face. He looks blood-drunk, high. “Guess who I finally tracked down?” he asks Max. Her expression slips, mouth dropping in disbelief.

“How?” she asks, swallowing hard.

Nova shrugs nonchalantly, tonguing his lip rings with a fang. “I’ve got Batman level connections,” he says with a wink. Max’s expression remains bleak, eyes filled with motherly concern.

“Who is he?” she asks, standing up.

“Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m gonna tear him to fucking shreds,” the vampire is alive in his voice. Max grits her teeth, approaching him cautiously.

“I know you’re angry, baby, but killing him won’t fix anything,” Max says softly, reaching up to stroke Nova’s cheek. He jerks away from her touch, staring at her wide-eyed, betrayal smoldering in his dark eyes. “Revenge is just a band aid. It’s not gonna heal you.”

Nova backs away from her, shaking his head in disbelief. “He turned me when I was nine years old, Max. That’s illegal, you said it yourself!” Max nods, looking close to tears.

“Yes, it is. And he deserves to be punished. So we’ll tell the Council and we will let them pass judgment,” she says in a soft, soothing voice. Nova shakes his head at her furiously, jaw clenched tight. “Please, baby.”

“No! Killing him is my right! He’s started this…turned me into a fucking monster. I’m gonna end it!” Max nods solemnly, expression taut with worry and sadness. Nova takes her hand, places a kiss on her inner-wrist, and then starts towards the door.

“Nova,” Allison whispers, stopping the vampire in his tracks. She stands up and exhales unsteadily, eyes filled with tears. She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but nothing comes out. There’s a pleading in the curve of her shoulders, the way her body is angled towards him.

Nova flashes her his signature smirk. “You’ve got sugar on your lips, bambi,” he says, slow and sensual. Then, just like that, he’s gone. Allison shudders, staring at the door.

Max growls, hands fisted at her sides. “That kid’s gonna be the death of me,” she says through clenched teeth. She pulls out her phone. “I’ve gotta go make some calls. Let me know if you guys need anything.” She grabs her purse and walks out of the loft, closing the door behind her.

I stand up and walk over to Allison, pulling her into my arms. She clings to me, burying her tear-stained face in my hair. I make soft shushing noises, quietly reassuring her that everything is going to be okay. After a minute or so she pulls out of my arms, quickly brushing the tears from her eyes.

“I’m okay,” she says, arching her neck proudly. I nod, even though I’m not convinced. “I’ll call you tonight.” She exhales shakily, grabs her bag, and walks out of the loft. I watch her leave, worry gnawing away at my insides. She’s one of the strongest people I know, but her heart is just as breakable as anyone else’s.

Stiles stands up and walks over to me, pulling me over to the couch. I let him coax me down into his arms, caught up in my own head. He runs his fingers through my hair as he grabs the remote, turning on Netflix. I stare at the TV, eyes unfocused.

“You alright?” Stiles asks.

I look up at him, smiling as he brushes his thumb down my cheek. “Yeah, I’m good…just worried about Allison,” I say, glancing over at the door.

“She’ll be alright, Liddy,” he says with a nod. “And so will we.” Warm air circles around us, fluttering the papers on Derek’s coffee table. I inhale deeply, taking in the subtle scent of apple pie. It calms my raging nerves, settling my heartbeat.

Exhaling, I relax into him. He tucks an arm around me and kicks his feet up, getting comfortable. I’m half-asleep by the time Scott and Kira come upstairs. They grab some doughnuts and leave, Kira giving me a quick hug. I settle my head down on Stiles’s leg and he throws a blanket over me, running his fingers up and down my arm as we watch reruns of ‘New Girl.’

Mid-way through an episode, I covertly turn onto my back, looking up at Stiles. He doesn’t notice, eyes fixed on the TV. I smile, watching him as he laughs. I could watch him watch TV for days; he’s so animated, laugh echoing around the loft.

Derek shows up a few hours later. He and Isa must’ve taken Isaac for a run because Derek’s half-dressed and his breathing is elevated. I arch an eyebrow in silent question and he shrugs, making his way over to us.

“Sourwolf,” Stiles says as Derek sits down next to him, tucking an arm around the elemental’s back. Derek responds by burying his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling Stiles’ scent like a drug. The wolf fist a hand in Stiles’ hair, turns his head, and kisses him, taking exactly what he wants.

Smirking, I sit up, crawling into Stiles’ lap. Derek pulls away from Stiles and captures my lips before the elemental has a chance to breathe. I melt into Stiles, placing a hand on each of their cheeks. Derek’s tongue darts into my mouth, making me moan. His stubble scrapes sensually against my skin, sending a shiver down my spine.

Stiles pushes Derek away from me, a hand on the wolf’s chest, and takes up right where Derek left off. His kisses are softer, far more playful. I bite his lip gently, eliciting a heart-stopping moan from deep in his chest. Derek growls, responding to the sound instinctually.

“Upstairs. Now.” Derek says, voice gruff.

Stiles pulls back, glances over at Derek, and arches an eyebrow. “So pushy. You know, saying please every now and then wouldn’t hurt you. Then again, you are a Hale so maybe it would.” He pauses for a fraction of a second, thinking on it. “If I made you say, ‘please pass the mash potatoes’ would you have an aneurism?”

Derek rolls his eyes and I giggle. “How’s this,” he says smirking, “Stiles, please shut the fuck up and go upstairs before I decide to fuck you on the kitchen table.” Stiles throws his head back, laughing. I slide off of his lap, standing up. They follow my lead, Derek starting up the stairs.

Stiles glances over at the table. “You know-”

“No!” Derek and I say at the same time. Stiles grumbles something about Clorox and turns to follow Derek up the stairs. The wolf grabs him when they’re halfway up, pressing Stiles into the railing and kissing him breathless. The air in the loft heats up, pulsing slightly.

I watch them from the bottom stair, smiling serenely. How the fuck did I end up here? Never in a million years did I think I’d be so hopelessly in love, so lost in two other people that I can’t even breathe. They saved me, gave me a reason to be the person I’ve always wanted to be.

“You coming, baby?” Derek asks, pulling me out of my own head. They’re looking down at me. Stiles with a wicked little smirk on his mouth and Derek, whose eyes are heavy-lidded, possessive.

I smile, overcome with happiness. My wolf and my elemental…they’re more than I deserve, more than I ever could have asked for, and everything I that I need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guy so much for sticking with me through this! It's been so much fun.  
> I'd love it if you'd hang around for the spin off. I'm five chapters into writing it and I'm already in love. :)  
> I'll post the first chapter later this week. 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought of this chapter or of the story as a whole. I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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